Big box hot rocks, Big shock light up the city. It crackles and snaps like pop rocks, It’s on fire like my beats, Even the elites are burning in their seats, While the fire stops, the headman can only watch, But maybe he’ll just flip a emergency notch that he bought, Cuz in this spot it’s getting hot. The big old headman’s already thought Of that, At least that’s I was taught, Cuz the headman own all the water and the sand, Every person and this land, Because why not tater a dictator, I would riot but half the people just wanna lay their, Same problem with the USA, Wouldn’t want to hate, But I can get a couple stitches today, I mean why pray to an orange man, Who’s best payment was a Pepsi can, But I’m also not a fan, of a man that will send 400 torpedoes, cranking the numbers like cheat codes, Because maybe someone in Ukraine stole his Cheetos.