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Comedy hiphop rap parody jokes funny crude humor humour rude rapping freestyle
http://www.inthe00s.com/index.php/topic,10115.0.html
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #4,039
Peak in subgenre #2,073
Rights
Just link me if you use it, baeioutch.
Uploaded
January 15, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 4:18
Story behind the song
My brother, uh, had a birthday.
Lyrics
This jerk emerged during birth, quim-squirted externally
The nurse measured his limbs and placed him on a gurney, see
Wheeled into maternity, he first glimpsed his fraternity
And said “Fuck this, I’d prefer it in limbo for eternity!”
Umbilical cord swung round like a goddamn noose, aimed
To lasso the roof fan and go out like Saddam Hussein
“Oh crap!” The membrane snapped, he fell, landed on his brain
No main arteries explains why this chap is still so vain
Alex is placid to talk to. He’s one passive schmuck
But still a titanic, rockhard thoracic jock
Afflicted with a syndrome known as ‘massive fuck’
Walk your hulk ass back home to Jurassic Park!
Fell in an acid bath? Oh, no, that’s just his tan line
This man lines up deodorant cans like a damn shrine
Spends time in front of mirrors more often than Fran Fine
Can’t rhyme lyrics or one-liners, so he just scams mine
You’ll feel ill like jungle fever or a fungal plant sting
Reading thirty-six-hundred words of quite bungled planning
Cuz man, his Philanderer’s Stein spoof was dung-filled ranting
Alexander’s ‘sibling wannabe’ like young Elle Fanning
Just kidding. Hell, imagine having to live together
With friggin’ Nib as your bigger brother-slash-father figure
Most others would rather suck a shotgun and pluck the trigger
Than have put up with so much from such a fucking wigga
So if you’re sexy to every red-blooded woman
If your bro’s ________, that fuckin’ Mormon
Then get down with the sound that be bumpin’ on, man
And ceh-leh-bra-teh til you burst, hey
A KFC employee, so minimum wagin’
Have a backyard nap when it’s hot, sunbathin’
Man, you know that your gonads are not unshaven
Nigga what?! Today’s your eighteenth birthday
A one-man phalanx, Alex is his own battalion
This Brattoni’s known as Austritalian_Stallion
Oh, this bold and valiant man defies all physics credo
The whole galaxy revolves around his fricking ego
Clicking emo photographs of his own torso
His cap is a constant muse, new shoes even more so
Also, every other garment hung in his wardrobe
Born so poor, he’s flaunting all the clothes he can afford, yo
This braggart's thick like a brick slab of plaster and granite
Exposing those pecs on his chest would flabbergast Janet
Such abnormal fab showmanship, he surpasses ‘chick magnet’
That chiselled abdomen draws in every minx on the planet
That’s right, girls orbit him like satellite receivers. Christ, even
Norbert and Dagget cannot cite seeing that much tight beav er
Either Alex is God’s gift to women, or a fetid joke
There’s no way his gay behaviour equates him as hetero
If your wissy mum is singing ‘Truck And Trailer’
And you’re fending girlfriends off your genitalia
At the beach, no more need to be scared of whalers
Cuz you lost that puppy fat and girth, mate
If your chick is a six foot tall ditzy model
If you smother your mother with vicious cuddles
If your face is the shape of a Christmas bauble
Nigga what?! Today’s your 18th Birthday
Yo, I only slander my bro because Alexander’s
Branded on my candid graph of potential sex panders
Below Geri, Beth Croker, EmiLoca and Sapna Sanders
I’d tap Alex’s ass like we were both captive pandas
But dammit, commandments of national standards ban it
So I have to one-hand it like some one-armed bandit
Til it hits January 15th on my calendar planner
(There’s no risk of inbred kids with family men enamoured)
Alex may stay up late having conversations with ladies
But they can’t compete, I’ve been his mate since natalhood, baby
He’s crazy for Ralph Lauren, eats his Weet Bix with a teaspoon
He pimped-out Mum’s old piece of crap, but aint seeing no P’s soon
Keep him off a skateboard or he’ll end up unconscious
Looking worse than when he copped those indigenous punches
In the fridge are his lunches: a six pack of lager
God, as if that six pack of his needs to get any larger…
If you’re stocky and cocky and mates with Coward
And you charm girls from drama without n o flowers
But with Beckham-like slick metrosexual powers
You’re the f