Bacon Bear - Anyway...

Bacon non-edible
Slightly incredible
Growing medical
Better hypotheticals
Con questionable decimals

Theoreticals. What the fuck's up?
In my Chucks I upchuck a chipmunk
He dipped, son. All I can respond is
Good luck!

At the junction trying to find the function
At the function trying to function
What ya fucking munchin'?
Up to something
Wearin' nothing
Ya concussed, kid?
Who did it?
Colonel Mustard!

I'm cursing at people calling it cussing
In a coffin anybody over-pronouncing the "t" in often
Problem causin', Mighty morphin'
I might be important
My confidant knows my confidence was imported
I got shorted

"Get Shorty" with The Penguin, and Frank Reynolds
Two forties, sip at Franklin, sanguine at the bank, disheveled

Revel in all our filth
Be happy we're not yet kilt
Too corny, yet ill

Why you hatin'?
While you buggin', we stay puffin'
When skies are gray, mkay?

So so so jus' squad up
And prolly chill out
No one needs that trash anyway

Take ya to church
Like Sam Cooke and the Soul Stirrers
Get to the work
Like Sam cook up some ole porridge
Making a mob, flash feast
Crepe on the cob, with cheese
Taking yer job with ease
Banking gymnast, trapeze
Jeez!
Bacon, why you gotta be like that?
Pleasse! Just shut your fucking upper trap
We! Are talking to one another
I and I to eye to eye
Might I might prescribe going asunder?
Cowabunga to the land down under
Utter motherfucker to a group of kangaroos
Fuckin' one another
We burn the stingray that did that to Steve Irwin
We earnin' the right to ball at The Rucker
Pee Wee Kirkland
B be workin'
Beard be flexin'
Tis scene arresting
Causing chicas constant texting
Claiming they feel we got that weird connection
Hmm hmm hmm!
Intellectual interjections

Why you hatin'?
While you buggin', we stay puffin'
When skies are gray.
Mkay?

So so so jus squad up
And prolly chill out
No one needs that trash
Anyway

Written by:
Sam Adler

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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