Canon In D(eez Nuts)

I’m the
Head of state of mind lead your imagination
Degenerate; some kind of bad hallucination

I’m the great unknown
I am the glory hole
The greatest ride of your life
At the expense of your soul

Rolling up my sleeves
Taking off my pants
Bout to be elbow deep
In your mom’s ass

I’m the vinegar taste
Of a sweaty sack
A wrinkle on your scrotum
Sharp pain in your back

A sight you can’t unsee
It’s the sight of me
A Big Perverted fiend
Living debaucherously 

I’m the
Search result that includes pics of a torn anus
That phrase you used a lot but then you learned it’s heinous

I am the irritant
The meat of lent
The worst sins of mankind
I am the government

I’m your stepdad Terry
Drank your Mountain Dew
And now I’m fucking your mom
In your bedroom

I am the splash on your ass
From a dense turd
I am the glass
The last sight of a dead bird

I’m the unwanted erection
At a wrestling match
The fart you shouldn’t’ve trusted
When you shit in your pants

I’m the
Tit sweat in a paper towel under a shirt
Fat that rolls over top of a tight miniskirt

I’m the stain on your couch
I’m a mosquito bite
I’m the spider that crawls
Into your mouth in the night

I’m social media
Fucking up society
I’m instagram
Where everyone’s so pretty

What are you gonna do
When you’ve gotta make room
For someone more exciting
For somebody new

So step aside, I’ve arrived
The worst shit amplified
And lotion up that skin
Because I’m coming in

Head Of State

What kind of monster are you
What kind of monster are you
What kind of monster are you
What kind of monster are you

Every day I’m Jagger Eaton setting records with my grind
I’m stacking paper but it cost me money every month to bind
Bring tens and twenties cuz no one will break the larger bills
Like every business only has fifty dollars in the tills (what the fuck)

Stop clowning dogg I see that money up in the tray
You must have hundreds coming through this fucking place every day
Not gonna make a scene I’ll use my credit card
But when the fuck did spending money get so goddamned hard

What kind of monster are you
Late March of ninety two
Usagi and her friends
Second year of middle school

What kind of monster are you
Stunting on Sailor Moon
The universe in her hands
While you hiding in your room

Warehouses of cash write off ten percent ate by rats
Money flies in at MACH 5 and for your info that fast
I’m pulling 10s of G’s at 10s of G’s Ben hit by the wind
Old motherfucker hair is rumpled but he does it again

I’ll break it down for you unlike those fucks at the store
Once again they won’t break bills that are fifty or more
US currency that’s worthless all across the US
Now my spending leave a trail and it’s a fucking mess

What kind of monsters are they
Jump up to ninety four 
Death Busters in your shit
Tomoe at your door

What kind of monsters are they
Daimons all up in the game
Extracting Pure Crystal Hearts
And they got our girl’s name _USAGI!_

Another day another dollar or a thousand or ten
So sick of seeing that same portrait of Benjamin
I’d put it in the bank but I don’t trust the FDIC
Insurance on that shit only goes up to two fifty G

So fucking rich I don’t pay taxes so that ain’t enough
Even my money’s making money keep on stacking it up
You’ll never have shit like I have shit so don’t sing along
Think you know money and the Sailors? Fuckin’ wrong.

What kind of monster are you
Think that it’s just a cartoon
Think that it’s for little girls
It’s for Big Perverts too

What kind of monsters are they 
That hate on that anime
That Super Sentai shit
Inject it into my veins

What kind of monster are you
Don’t care about Sailor Moon
My fist so far up Uranus
I must be Sailor Neptune

What kind of monster am I
Sailor Pervert confirmed
I’m at the foot of your bed
Bump in the night that you heard

What Kind Of Monster

I take what I can get
But it’s not enough
I have everything
And it’s all useless stuff

Who have I become
Someone to ignore
Everyone I love
Don’t love me anymore

I crawl out of my hole
And have to shield my eyes
Today I’m born anew
It feels so good to die

Contractions in my guts
Contractions in my speech
I’m’a fuck it up
Big Pervert hit the streets

Who Have I Become

Pauses And Waits

I been balling with a girl for a couple of years
Every day she wake up and have a couple of beers
She got a mullet got a gut and she blind in one eye
She fucking scare me to death I ain’t afraid to die

When I first moved in and I saw her around
Meanest bitch on the street the coldest cunt in town
I had to roll with that crew got in I was stunned
At all the bad fucking shit that she did for fun

She take a
Muff puff
Holding the cig with her lips

She drink the
Brown stuff
That old Kodiak spit

She toots coke
And queefs smoke
It’s no joke

You’ll get a contact high
And probably pink eye

Big Pervert all up in the local liquor store
She over by the cheap shit shopping close to the floor
She wearing leggings they’re not enough to hide that toe
Seven fifty in the crack and she’s ready to go

She take a shot of tequila rip a line of salt
Squirt the lime in her eye that one’s probably her fault 
She ignoble she raw she the worst on the scene
The room is spinning time is slow while I hand her the green

Contact High

Big Perv got a dinger
And two foul balls
My junk smells like some franks
And a urinal stall

A pair of delicacies 
That smell like old cheese
Pound town triple crown
Burnt skin on my knees

I’m the Wade Boggs of rap
60 beers to a flight
I’m George Brett out in Vegas
Shit my pants last night

Got a teeny tiny hog
On a big bag of cash
It’s kind of like a little piglet 
that’s rolling in trash

Storming barns like the Babe
I’m fucking birds like Randy Johnson
Just like that they’re on their back
And then I’m hittin it raw son

I’m betting on this track
I’m gonna bet every show
I’m betting on this motherfucker
Like my man Pete Rose

I’m rap’s Ripkin to Gehrig
I’m rap’s Ripkin to Banks
I’m rap’s Ripkin to Camden
For the United States

Ichiro Suzuki
Hall of fame on lock
Career was hotter than two rats 
fucking in a sock

I hate the pussy cheaters
No respect for the game
Asterisk out Barry Bonds’ 
Whole fucking name

Do we have enough ink?
I’m gonna guess that we do
Let’s tag McGwire The Rocket
A-Rod and Sosa too

The Babe’s the Sultan of Swat
But I’m assaultin’ the twat
First ballot bean flicker
And I’m calling my shot

Put me in coach
Cuz i’m slummin tonight
I’m all up in the hostess
In the back of the flight

I took the seventh inning stretch
And i stretched it till it was wrecked
I blew her back out having sex
And i fixed her fucking neck

I got my fingers in the box
And my tongue is on deck
And my dick is in the hole
Who’s gonna clean up this mess

We got a grand fuckin slam
My balls are hittin her belly
Her titties doing the wave
Her legs are turning to jelly

Dump a wad on my fist
knuckleball to the cunt
It works fine from behind 
But i prefer from the front

Moneyball in the bed
I’m all up in the spreadsheets
Couldn’t get Brad Pitt
Big Pervert is too cheap

Talkin stats at the club
ERA RBI
And now the guys are all hard
And the ladies are dry

Foul Balls

Bust up her nose like I’m motherfuckin Flonase
Crust on her clothes she been filthy for a few days
Dust in my drawers don’t need em want the freedom and the
Must in my hole’s needed air since Tuesday

I’m gassed out
I passed out
A pearl necklace?
Get the cash out

I blast enough rope that I could be a hangman
Glaze around her mouth on the couch with a stain and
Dirty underwear on the chair with the afghan
Rubbers on the floor keeping count like Rainman

I’m shallow
She’s at the gallows
I’ve got my mask on
She knows it’s me though

She looks loose with the noose running down on her chest
Tattooed family names get a glaze like the rest
I see the soul leave her body pay a toll now to God he
Won’t let us in for free and my Latin’s super spotty

I’m gassed out
I passed out
A pearl necklace?
Get the cash out

I still sling rope like a motherfucking hangman
Gun for the goon and a son of the layman  
Better burn the bed any night that I stay man
Ring in the tub and a wad on the nightstand

I’m shallow
She’s at the gallows
I’ve got my mask on
She knows it’s me though

Hangman

You know that big motherfucker with the pinky ring
New Balance gold chain a gut and a drink
Got his glasses under Reagan
He was there to see Bush
Always up in the club intent on crushing the puss

You can smell him downwind from a mile away
Chanel cocktail mix in a spray
He has a wet upper lip
Calls it his moistache
An appetite for sin and a thirst for some cold cash

Balls deep in yams every night
Clappin’ cheeks and slappin’ thighs
If everyone’s young and nasty
Who’s bringing home the bread

Steamed ass and clam every night
Champagne squirt and bloodshot eyes
When everyone’s young and nasty
Who’s bringing home the bread

Daddy.

A quick stop
A quick shot
He’s lookin’ good

The snow’s white
The nose wipe
He’s gettin’ wood

He knows his brother could bore you to tears with the numbers
Snatchin’ coins like Italian plumbers

Click click
When heels hit
He snap ‘em fast

Fun in front
But biz in back
Iconoclast

He throws parties you can’t throw without a lawyer
Got a glory hold cut out just inside the foyer

Another day done; eases into the tub
The water he displaces soaks into the rug
His fat isn’t buoyant
His titties just sink
He takes a drag, he lays back, and he calls for a drink

Daddy In A Minor

Big Pervert in the streets, big pervert in the sheets.

Big Pervert

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