Welcome Back, Cracka
Oh goodie, Lil Lima Bean is back from the closet,
But he looks a lil tired and keeps askin' where his balls went.
He thinks his rhymes are tight, but they seem a little loose,
I'm flowin' like Fitty Cent and he sounds like Mother Goose.
The kid is all mixed up and thinks he's the king,
But he's doin' the Hokey Pokey and I'm the New Jack Swing.
Besides the King is dead, konked out in Memphis,
And stay out the closet, you gonna come down with syphillis.
Jus kiddin', he's mah brah, and he says I'm his people,
He's gonna build a big church and put my name on the steeple.
I'll stand out front and bring in the congregation,
We'll pass the baskets and rake in the donations,
Take the cash and pass it out to the poetry poor,
Even give some to Gilligan and his movie star whore.
A to the 7 is the new designation,
Cyclones scratching their heads in frustration,
Marauders all thinking bout litigation,
Mustangs not needing the aggravation,
Wizards looking to Bort for some justification,
Jacks fearing the playoffs and the elimination,
Lima Bean focusing on lubricaton,
Elves are worrying bout the penetration,
Rangers trying to avoid humiliation,
Hitmen checking out the new gyration,
Longhorns joining in the proclamation...
Tip ya hat, foo! This is the Nighthawk NATION..