Edwige Fenech

Verse 1:

Supercoven shit, black jungle boy!
Broken clock is ticking, I'm a hoarder
Unconscious whores and combos swamp the kitchen
Every composition is human blood on butcher's smack horrific
Middle-class families buried in odd positions
Under my backboards feeding off sod in decomposition
And you brag when your house ends up by trapping and watch
I push my CDs like crack in the block
Homeless, bubbling rats in a pot
I go to work like, cats in a sock
Dirtbag (yeah), dumb burned hags in a swamp
Abandonin' lots, driving a work van in the Bronx
Put me to sleep like a third bed when I nod nuke madder than Nas
Hello future, welcome to my land of the Oz
I turn your die-hard fans into box, purse grabbed and thеn swapped (Yeah)
I be kicking shit sincе my Pops put the first scab on my knot
Figure-8 maker ticker tape hate, parade I can't stand where you rock (Fuck)
I'm twisted, my brain looks like a bunch of rubber bands in a knot

Chorus:

Rubber gloves, salt, mescaline, ice
Duct tape, ion, caramel oat, vinegar, peroxide, MAC-11s, turkey baster, horned cactus
Bold cuts, salsa, jelly, garbage bags, peach gravy, tire iron, Turkish ones, soil

Verse 2:

Furlong jacket fixed kid ready in seater and map
Supercoven, three beam and scraps
Eat up the hash, orgone box junkie
Reese's monkey sleeves up, he need a retach
Sleep in the trap but don't slip
I graze in a mushroom patch, feedin' on cats
I keep fungus like a tea maker, eat up a half
Sell the box, hid lizards in centered seats compressed the shops, whispers tell 'em watch
One slug to make your engine stop
One whole round to put through your engine block
This is Bad Spit my album art should be sketched by cops
I can thread the ox and fly that eagle over your way to give you a faith to edge your top
I let go shops, delivery bile as Vanessa Redgrave's effective crotch

Chorus