This song has more pants pooping than any other song in history...."It's Olga Fuck! She'll kick you in the shins, punch you in the nuts, then skin you while she sings a happy tune"

Jokerfied! we love a consistent reference

So this Christmas
You wanna get em
Somethin sweet and sentimental

Aren’t you precious
And so thoughtful
So very nice

But lemme pitch you this
Instead of worthless shit
Maybe take the hit
And dip
Into those savings for a little
somethin priceeeeyyyyyyy

Gucci, Rolex, Tiffany
A rare illegal foreign cheese
I’ll buy you shit that’ll make you scream
Make your real life feel like a holiday dream

You want a yacht okay why not
A taxidermied ocelot
Armani, Prada, and Dior
Anything you want, I’ll wrap it up, it’s yours

This Christmas! Gonna spend every DIME
Because the finest gifts are
ONE YOU FIND ON A SHELF

This Christmas! Ain’t wasting my TIME
Tryin to read your mind and make you something myself

(Wailing)
This Christmaaaaaas!

This Christmaaaaaas!

Love on a Shelf

I’m a city boat
Metropolitan frivolity’s my guarantee
I get a lotta folks
Steppin aboard to have a drink on me

And I don’t know why
But I sure do cry
Thinkin bout that gal who used to hang out on me
Now she’s gettin into trouble on the seven seas

Ching Shih
You traded city livin for piracy
Ya think she
Ever thinks about a crummy little junk like me
And sure I’m jealous of her pirate ship
But I don’t blame her none for wantin to dip
She’s gotta be who she’s gotta be

I miss the good ol’ days
Rockin in the harbor til the mornin comes
But now you’re makin waves
Heard you really fuckin stuck it to that government scum

And I hope you know
That I miss you so
But I wouldn’t want ya hangin up your buccaneer suit
When there’s swashes needin bucklin and there’s booty to loot

Ching Shih
I heard some people callin you the pirate queen
It sinks me
To know you’re out there on some other boat livin your dream
But I’m happy for your sizable crew
Even if it kinda gives me the blues
Ya gotta do what ya gotta do

You’re out plundering
And I’m left wondering
Would a blubberin landlubber like me
Ever stand a chance out on the open sea

I’m drowning in the ocean
Of my own emotions
May the parting tide carry the tears I cry
To her ship as it slips neath the indigo sky

Ching Shih
It took me a while but now I see
You’re free
As the gulls that skate across the ocean breeze 
Maybe one day you’ll think of settling down
On a cozy boat that’s closer to town
Until then I guess I’ll see you around

Ching Shih

Hey!
Are you tired of bein' sad?
Wish you had more than you have?
You get the notion everybody else
Is keepin' secrets from ya and you got a hunch that they’ve all found a way

Some kinda universal key
How can you possibly compete?
Well lemme tell you something that’ll help
Just open up that notes app and jot down exactly what I’m bout to say

And keep in mind I’m nothin more than
A chest of anthropomorphic
Gold and I do not possess a brain

Just be the richest man in the world
And watch your problems disappear
And you won’t need nobody
Let the gold wipe away your tears

And if you’re askin me
"How doooooo I do that?"
Uh, well, I don’t know

But if my man Mansu Musa
Can acquire that much boodle
Then it seems to be attainable
If you apply your noodle
Have you thought of trading Funko Pops
Or smugglin precious jewels
Or you could just be a piece of shit
And steal a golden stool

Idk, you’ll figure it out

Just be the richest man in the world
Make sure you’re never satisfied
Spend all your days n night
Chasin that money until you die

(Just Be) The Richest Man In The World

Wakin up in the mornin
Drag your ass on outta the bed
Got a little somethin somethin
A-thump a-thumpin up in your head
Your ass is all clammy
Spots poppin up a freaky color of red
Catch yourself in the mirror
Lookin only slightly better than dead

You vomit, brush your teeth
And then you vomit once more
Then drain all of the fluid
From your freshly sprouted sores
Thermometer is tellin you
One hundred and four (THAT'S HOT!)
My dude you’re on your way
To rap-a-tap-a-tappin at death’s door

You got the pox!
Uh oh! Oh no no no
Not sure how best to console ya
But ya got the variola 
And you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus

People can go viral 
In a myriad of ways
Unboxing vids, getting kicked in the nuts
Or tweetin shitty takes
But you picked the one that’ll leave you dead in 
Seven to seventeen days
Tis the reason for your lesions
And excruciating pains

You got the pox!
Whoops, yep you do— 
And if you think you’ve had enough then
Just wait til those blisters slough and
Sure you’ll probably die
But hey
On the bright side
You got a couple new friends
Who will be with you til the end
Count on us 
Scabs n pus
Look at us
Scabs n pus

You Got The Pox!

Here left to lurch
Twixt two lovely swaying birch
Trees: Igor of Kiev
Husband to a wife
Who would face near any strife
To avenge his savage death

Olga
She murdered the whole town
We frankly are surprised
She hasn’t thought to chop us down

Olga
Sainthood she attained
But to cross her is to doom yourself
To join the countless maimed

She’ll off your family, Merc your friends
She’ll hunt your cat and dog and when
You think she’s finally calling it a day
She’ll catch you when you’re unaware
Pour acid down your underwear
And laugh because she’s jokerfied that way

She’ll lop your toes into a jar
And pack it up and mail it far
And on your grandma’s birthday she will find
A bloody box addressed to her
Containing nothing less than your
Ten piggies and she’ll lose her god damn mind

Olga
She may be a saint
But rightly pissed to see her sweetie
Split right up the taint

Olga
Legit she’s got no chill
Piss her off if you’d like
To experience being killed

She’ll simply make you poop your pants
That’s right she’ll make you poop your pants
And if you’re think that you won’t poop your pants
Just wait because you’ll poop your pants
Because she’ll make you poop your pants
And kill you once you’ve pooped your poopy pants

You’ll hear a knocking at the door
And when you ask who’s there to your
Relief it’s just your neighbor Joan Calhoun
You open up
IT’S OLGA! FUCK!
She’ll kick your shins and punch your nuts
Then skin you while she sings a happy tune

She’ll slit your throat like that one scene
In Gone Girl, know the one I mean
Where NPH is-- well, you get the gist
If it’s not clear the message here
Is if you hold existence dear
Make sure you don’t end up on Olga’s list

OLGA!

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