Mr. Scott has 3 shirts
His style to me it hurts
He has an Is Alpine shirt
He is running low uh-oh fashion alert!

He also owns the shirt with the U.S. Ski Team
To own more than 3 is surely his fashion dream
Mt. Rainier is the 3rd shirt he owns
This kind chap also often times wears pants that are green

Oh Scott oh Scott!
You mustn't be stuck no your number of shirts is not a lot
Fear not o' fear not
Is Alpine and the others are all you need and all you got

Mr. Shmirnoff could not fall asleep
For his mind was focused on nothing but his jeep
He walked into his kitchen with the hope of a solution
As he saw the pills the ones next to the lotion

He took a few too many thirty minutes later
His mind was spinning in circles like a 3rd grader
He figured he might sharpen his pencils before he lie down to sleep
He approached his sharpener he took a quick leap confused as a purple sheep and what came next was gory and ignorant because he put his finger in the sharperener out of confusion and tore it he still was loopy

And his finger became droopy as he confused his finger for a pencil his mind was woozy and soon enough he was losing so much blood and then he finally understood what was happening the blood dropped low as it stopped on his toe oh what a mess he made he finally took his finger out and said "Oh hell no!" The room was soaked in red his nerves were dead and shortly after that he entered into his bed

Finally resting with a finger mostly destroyed his ring was broken just like his previous joy and he finally fell into a slumber as he dreamed of some lumber that he had see on Tumblr.

There once was a boy who lived in Spocompton
His biggest fear was a drive-by to stop him
Whitest kid around totally fearless in this scary town
He shouted "Hey fatso!" But boy he did not know what was going to go down

One day he left the house to buy a small mouse
So called "Fatso" was out and about with his homies no doubt
Driving down the ride so happily and calm
But a mile down the road came Fatso with his hoes
The boy stepped out of his car onto the sidewalk standing afar
Fatso and the crew drive by quite slowly and out come the guns shooting bullets not low-key

The boy cries loudly as blood splurges from his body
Just a young guy about to die he began to ask "Why, Fatso, why?"
Bullet holes in his body tightly spread in his shotty
The boy in the ground now begging for mercy
Praying to God that he might stop hurting me

Dead and gone, Fatso still angry with a name like his
He didn't like to do it but he needed to complete his biz
niss
Fatso drove away, the boy died quickly,
A sad day to insult, as Fatso yelled "Don't **** with me."

I find myself at the laundromat
Working out my thighs and lats
I put 2 quarters in the slot
It makes a sound like a robot

I open the door and I am posed
With a question asking, where are my clothes?
I don't wanna look stupid so I improvise
So I start chatting it up with a couple of guys

I say
Laundry for hire, laundry for hire
I'm looking for just the right buyer
Come on in, into my dryer
Laundry for hire, laundry for hire

One fine chap quickly agrees
Though I see him shaking at the knees
I ask him kindly to take out his keys
Don't worry kiddo this will be easy

He squeezes in, packed so tightly
I close the door feeling high and mighty
The machine rolls round and round
The door opens, and he falls to the ground

I feast on his entrails, meaty and sweet
Taking in the smell of his feet
I end my meal and am satisfied
Though I do wish he was deep fried

I feel a hunger still raging on
I still wish for it to be gone

So I say,
Laundry for hire, Laundry for hire
I'm looking for just the right buyer
Come on in into my dryer
Laundry for hire laundry for hire

Life on the city streets wasn't easy
I lived off top ramen along with the spray cheesey
Panhandlin' all day long just to get on by
It was enough to make a grown pigeon cry

That's right I'm a pigeon, I'm a bird of flight
But I'm a **** *** bird, win evry fight
Don't you talk back or I'll skin you, fly you like a kite
hide up yo kids cause I be coming for em tonight

Bye the way I'm batman.
A dark ******* knight!

So stay inside cause I be breakin in
An innocent pigeon, you'll never see me comin
Stealing all yo stuff an scoopin up yo kids
I'll auction em off, take the highest bid

So don't call me a ****, cause I put a roof over their head
I pay them to work, by that I mean givin head
Later that night we'll all go to bed
Life be good when they **** my **** red

That's right I'm Chester the pigeon
You won't catch me in the kitchen
This poem be over so quit yo *******

**, **, **
Hoes be everywhere yo
I soar above a city so naughty
Inside of my flying Bugatti

I land atop the cityscape
In fear of my **** getting *****
I slip my keister down the chimney
With a present prepared for lil' Timmy

As I reach the bottom my muscles freeze
And I realize there is no milk and cookiez
Bullets fly and my suit stains red
The cartel had found me and now I'm dead

Lieing on my body is my soft little feline
So cute and sweet like a flower of clementine
I pet Young Gunther softly as he stares into my eyes
I however was yet to meet my despise

The claws came out all sharp and about
Blood everywhere as I fought him throughout
Feeling such pain I fought back the best I could
His speed however was misunderstood

Bleeding out I grabbed the phone
In mid-brawl I began to crawl
Dialing 911 to save my life
At this point even a knife would not suffice

Nearly dead the ambulance arrived
Deprived and hurt I continued to cry
"Why Gunther, why?"

I was put on to a stretcher and taken away
Gunther running he escaped in some way
In the ER with little blood left
No hope in my mind remains about to be swept
Into a can and in a number of minutes
My fatality occurred
Words were slurred
And I died slowly painfully and without any last words
But "Oh Young Gunther, you little ****."