Crosshairs

The fat is in the fire

A fryer made of chicken wire

Gettin' sick and tired of a friggin liar

Pelican, with some very soft mangoes

A closet full of skeletons

And terry cloth Kangols

Flew the coop

Before you hit it, let me warn you

She did a cool hula hoop

But don't get any on you

It's all a big scam

To make y'all eat pig ham

When he's on the mic

He's like the triggerman

Fig jam

DOOM, not to be confused with nobody

Especially

Since the flows he used is so nutty

Never too woozy to go study

Crews got no clues

Like old cruddy Officer McGillicuddy

Watch your six

He got a lot of more tricks

Lyrics, bricks, on sticks

Sure got raw nytics

It's a gift

Don't get shot for kicks

With the same slick he used to plot sick vics with

Spotted at a chick flick

Holdin hands

The other one on his swollen glands

A golden chance

That's why he kept them holes in his pants

Rollin' in a old van

Is what he told his stolen fans

Is that you?

True

Matched from hat to shoe

Snafu

Snatch any brew

LaBatts Blue

Black Jew like that's new

Patch me through

No latch attached

Scat, shoo, catch twenty-two

Super

He's loaded dice nice

And over priced

An arm and a leg

Owe him life or your ice

Villain, nag a grieving old hag

Snag a bragger by his mic cord

And leave him holding the bag

Come clean

A bunch of dumb mean creampuffs

A keen drum machine buff

Who fiends for more green stuff

Instead of starvin'

It be problems by the goo-gobs

Aight, somebody's robbing Lou Dobbs

And them tonight

And he's on the next flight

Moon bound

And makes it a point to stay away from the goon pound

Got some peers

That's gone in the lost years

Tears and cheers

Born in the crosshairs

Hey Mr. Thundercleese

What's that you were singing?

It is the robotic hymn of doom

Well, I always say

Nothin' livens up a robotic hymn of doom

Better than an amazing pair of jugs