If I could be a cartoon character
Which one would I be
I thought about being Fred Flinstone
But he's too old-fashioned for me

And then there's maybe George Jetson
A man who knew electronics
Nothing like Yosemite Sam
Who needed to be hooked on phonics

And what about Shaggy and ******
You gotta love those ****** snacks
I've never really considered a Smurf
And their tiny little mushroom shacks

Or maybe I'd become a super hero
Who comes to save the day
Batman , Green Hornet or Underdog
Who puts the bad guys away

Maybe I'd live in Jellystone Park
Where Yogi is still the king
For "Hello Mr Ranger Sir"
Is just the funniest thing



© All Rights Reserved

I need a new pick up line.

"Hi, I've got no confidence in myself
but maybe if the two of us
came together
then I wouldn't need any."

"You must be a Flinstone,
because I can lick your *******
with a breath strip on my tongue."

that's *******.
my breath isn't minty
fresh. at all.

I wanted to be a poet,
but I couldn't tell what bad poetry
looked like.
so maybe it's mine.
so maybe I should
stop looking.

it's like:
"I can't do it,
so I won't try."

it's like:
"life's too short,
so let's end it.
baby."

there's your pickup line.

Imma killa artist
I’ll ****’em all wit witts
Mixed wit Lyrics
and twist
Taylored swift
for these nimb witz
I spit stupit dump quick slick ****
You say tan nick, I say tan nic
I sat on it, like Saint Tan Nick
I ain’t a saint, or a snake serpent
You look more like tan nick
Or a fat and ugly Saint Pat trick
you silly rabbit
dixx are for chic
So stop being a ****
My gang green; I'm that sick
You flow like an alien from a different planet
So I capted and planned it
Then left you a-band-did
Hanging all strained
With Caps-locked in
I couldn't have plan it
The way fate planned it
Headed for the top
Like an alien from another planet
You drinkin ale-he-on a comet
Cause you over commit like a hobbit
you haling ions from aliens
with Plannets and Planatons
moving million tons of megabombs
with captian planet and megatron...
you rap like an marvelComic from ComicCon
I can tell from your pic in your biopic
My genome, will change your top pick like Vietnam
I remember V at nam telling me to stay calm
While war waged on
Breakin you down at the crack of dawn
microscopic with Cycloptic biopic
optics with larger profits that pitch forks
At prophets
You still seeing what bra fits
Checking out Al's fits
Stop all that lying
Drop all your bad habytes
I play spades with mavericks
shaving points off the average
Anyone  reading this
Like ****
It's like I'm watching this
Other artist
Get his *** kicked
I stick and move like a hat trick
I’m a savage eatin my many enemies with cabbage.
You'r too weak its on the surface,
I picked you on purpose
Your last verse you forced it
It was the worse-it
Sounded rehearsed-it
Seemed so plastic
Killing you dead serpents
These short tails aint worth it
We charm pets and **** pests a side
And lets the vets decide
where the dead reside
all bets aside
You dark knights never bright
Your end in plain sight
Dead on arrival
Then streaming it on Spike
On late night, drinking sprite on Skype
This ain't even a fight
This aint right
Beating you over the head phones
Until I pick up a dead tone
All because you spit on my mic
You just a flinstone
Your chic an easy bone
Chewing through stone
Thirsty for the throne
you in the way
so you got over thrown
How's that for throne
I’m headstrong in a zone
my own-zone, changing the O-zone
Raising the bar until its all gone
my Pen dragging, the new rome
my golden showers leaving you two-toned
I got the mightiest touch
you too much injury prone
with ***** moans that should be home Moe
No **** but your *** moans
When my black snake moan
Her hormones make her moan
Some I'm home Moe
Dealing with her hormones.
Bi- the way she found photos
Passcode your mobile phone, you
In a Tie-bow, with a Bi-Guy, all tied
getting Dee-*****,
Waving hi, with a smile,
duck-tapped looking into the phone
A selfy, but you weren’t alone,
dude was hung Like a home depot, you hanging off his pole
You looked in love, text read, "waiting for the sequel"
you aren’t a rapper, you stay acting like you are evil,
Deep inside you hide your pride
Working discreet on the side,
wanting no trouble, cause we are all equal and you
stunt double for the village people.

Flinstone Vitamins' **** gush of fruity

dust, had an upside-down

convalescing taste.

Very much like the pre-attendence of a

body learning to show up.

A plastic red binder with checks &

minuses.

Birth trauma fluorescent lights

reabsorbing impact against iron mesh

windows.

Jittering along patterns of early

education, somewhere to decipher the

hand let go of.

Which sometimes led to unsophisticated

cruelties on behalf of survival.

A windowless classroom can't properly

educate imagination, windows are

quiet recharges for the retainment of

information.

How the smell of cafeteria food felt far

more personal because it wasn't

homemade.

how every: classroom/gymnasium/

auditorium/cafeteria/playground could

sound like a sqwaked-apart conversation.

Its coronal call.

Prostrated by a whistle or blowhorn from

on high--just when we were trying to

******* tell one another that it's really

a Mystery School.