Syrup by Tenacious J Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Spilling syrup on paper, stirrups in labor
Corrupt, tilling for favors
Save us from the rapist that James is
I'm killing any Villain clones
Throwing stones then beating the corpse with your own bones
I'm Indiana Jones, fortune and glory
Don't understand like a contortionist story
Epitome of style, At the tone dial
Bile, Vile, Shlept it home a mile
Spoil yourself before a trifling whore
Dub it four doors for more buds
Shoplift a tub of fish like in the Sac O' Suds
Lack of funds don't stop hicks from hitting licks
Silly rabbit, you know Trix are for kids
So nibble it a bit until that little Billy gets pissed
And grabs you by the neck
And stabs you in the peck
Until your dead and then that rigor mortis sеts in
[Verse 2]
Spilling syrup on paper, stirrups in labor
Corrupt, tilling for favors
Fate was the fеtus faced the hangers
Of all coats and mackinaws
Multi-task, he took notes while whacking off and smacking broads
Faulty mask don't take it off
Your minds are more Dorian while my rhymes are more Lord
He in a rocket trading cannabis for bands and stuff
And cops are waiting for him to bust more vandalists
An oscillating fan unwarm your evidence
Eleven cents left in will and testaments
Heaven sent sick flows
Holy nose with head colds
Running like how Usain Bolt is over hurdles
Cunning, culty kikes, blow, butane
Cad "cool space cowboy who's blue" Bane
Sound coy, no time for sad stories
If my rhymes made you mad then no worries
I'll guide you over back to where the door is
Spilling syrup on paper, stirrups in labor
Corrupt, tilling for favors
Save us from the rapist that James is
I'm killing any Villain clones
Throwing stones then beating the corpse with your own bones
I'm Indiana Jones, fortune and glory
Don't understand like a contortionist story
Epitome of style, At the tone dial
Bile, Vile, Shlept it home a mile
Spoil yourself before a trifling whore
Dub it four doors for more buds
Shoplift a tub of fish like in the Sac O' Suds
Lack of funds don't stop hicks from hitting licks
Silly rabbit, you know Trix are for kids
So nibble it a bit until that little Billy gets pissed
And grabs you by the neck
And stabs you in the peck
Until your dead and then that rigor mortis sеts in
[Verse 2]
Spilling syrup on paper, stirrups in labor
Corrupt, tilling for favors
Fate was the fеtus faced the hangers
Of all coats and mackinaws
Multi-task, he took notes while whacking off and smacking broads
Faulty mask don't take it off
Your minds are more Dorian while my rhymes are more Lord
He in a rocket trading cannabis for bands and stuff
And cops are waiting for him to bust more vandalists
An oscillating fan unwarm your evidence
Eleven cents left in will and testaments
Heaven sent sick flows
Holy nose with head colds
Running like how Usain Bolt is over hurdles
Cunning, culty kikes, blow, butane
Cad "cool space cowboy who's blue" Bane
Sound coy, no time for sad stories
If my rhymes made you mad then no worries
I'll guide you over back to where the door is