Surrender Now

You came to the wrong planet. Now it's time to die. Now it's time to kiss your sorry ass goodbye. You screwed with my crew: now I'm really upset. Is that your real hair style, or did you lose a bet? You got no sense of humor, as I can plainly see, and since you're not very smart, you have to use your brute strength. Just like your dick, your song lacks length, and just like chlamydia, your genitals stink. Energy attack, and I dodged that shit. Is that the best you can do? If it is, you should quit. Put your fingers in a ball, and try to form a fist. That's lesson number one: you going to pay me for this? Lesson number two: don't forget to tie your shoes. I'd hate for you to fall and lose another tooth. You're angry inside, but you know it's the truth. That's why you ran to cry inside a telephone booth. Your retardation levels are too hard for me to breach: even for a student, you're just too hard to teach. Get back on the short bus where you belong. Get a job scrubbing toilets, and stop writing songs. You copy down the graffiti on the bathroom stall walls: you know, the same place that grown men wipe their own balls. It's a great place for lyrical inspiration, ever since your brain took a vacation. It's better than anything that you could ever do: there's nothing more that you can learn from watching Blue's Clues. Next time your mom gets pregnant, tell her not to drink booze, because we don't need anybody else on the planet like you. I'll be sure to wear a condom to help do my part, and I'll get her some birth control pills at the local Walmart. We can all be a family: you can sit in the cart. We'll paint a bullseye on your head, and use it to throw darts.