Kiss My Assassin

VERSE 1

When was the last time you shed a single tear?

Did you drown your sorrows in All-American beer?

Year after year, we fear for our lives

Will it be a semi-auto or some bayonet knives?

You got no heart, so you celebrate our deaths

We’re just a bunch of losers all addicted to meth

Since bigotry and bloodshed are your only passions

Put some chap stick on and KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

VERSE 2

Sympathy and empathy are quid pro quo

Listening to you sob is like watching grass grow

You said it to us once upon a time

Now we return the favor, you MAGA slime

You can dish it out, but you can’t take it in

And you rally your militias every time you don’t win

Now that rioting has become the new fashion

Take off your shield helmet and KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

BRIDGE

Rose red lips!

On my cheeks!

Not the ones on my face!

But the ones on my seat!

Lip balm stains!

On my starfish!

Just remember!

You started this!

 

VERSE 3

“Don’t sink to their level” is a way of life

For those who never had to bury their wife

She had a big dick, so she had to go under

That’s why your machinegun echoed like thunder

As it ripped apart every one of your victims

Every minor inconvenience to a prejudiced system

On the day your heart stops, you’ll get a nice crowd pop

I’ll pull down my pants and you can KISS MY ASSASSIN!

 

OUTRO

Pretty pink lips!

On my cake!

Your dignity!

Is mine to take!

Strawberry gloss!

On my crack!

You got no feelings!

You got no facts!

KISS MY ASSASSIN!

Calling You Out

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 1

When I’m walking down the street in the summer heat

I might get my ass beat for a yucky-yucky Tweet

Cancel culture isn’t real, but I still don’t like the feel

Of high pitched squeals beating me down like steel

Rapid fire insults are like punches to my gut

They wouldn’t know my pain if it bit them on the butt

I’ll do all my Tweeting from a padded prison cell

You’re the villains of the story, in case you can’t tell

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 2

You’re like the pizza-pizza guy from Little Caesar’s

Just say “gangster-gangster”, you My Pillow squeezer

That’s what you really are: a gangster in the dark

Creeping on me while I’m walking through the park

I could never run fast, I would always finish last

In a marathon sprint, put me in a leg cast

Can’t get away from the fortune and the fame

Every fall from grace sounds about the same

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

VERSE 3

I’m eating with my friends, I’m eating with my family

You say my words are crazy while you suffer from insanity

You made your point about fifty years ago, my guy

You’d think by now that it dissolved into a lie

CHORUS

I’m calling you out! I’m calling you out!

The gangster-gangster-gangsters are calling you out!

I do it ‘cause I care! I do it ‘cause I care!

But when you need me the most, I’m never ever there!

Dude Bros

VERSE 1

Dude Bros are pretty, Dude Bros are good

Seems that all they’ve ever wanted was a Monster

Chads are having hot sex, just like they should

Seems that all the Single Pringles need a martyr

CHORUS 1

This is a call to all the pickup tuckers

And cheerleader fuckers

This is a call to all the rap metal bangers

And crystal meth takers

VERSE 2

Kyles are pretty, Kyles are cool

Seems that all they ever wanted was some Death Punch

Karens are like Kyles, but they’re just old school

They say, “Let me speak to your manager” way too much

CHORUS 2

This is a call to all the valor thieves

“Freedom is not free!”

This is a call to all the armchair quarterbacks

“Alternative facts!”

VERSE 3

Kevins are pretty, Kevins are loud

Seems that all they ever wanted was a handgun

Landons are rich kids, Landons are proud

Egos are so big, they think they’ll get a fandom

CHORUS 3

This is a call to all the manly tough guys

Draft dodgers in disguise

This is a call to all the MMA wing nuts

Tapped out to a paper cut

This is a call to all the mansplainers

Whiny complainers

This is a call to all the Dudely Dude Bros

And their bigoted prose