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Cannons at Nick

Denace feat. Spencer Sharp
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Lyrics

Will the real Slim Shady please stand up Please stand up Hey Saint Nicholas Merry Christmas And my condolences Sorry to interrupt your avocado Toast and guacamole chips You white bitch Nice clique That's so cute I haven't seen a boy band Dance like that since '02 America's got talent But you don't Poor you Nice black and white video, Nick You broke, dude? By the way That invitation you sent to my address Got caught in my junk mail Punk fa- Let me calm down Before I start spazzin batshit And dropping rappers Faster that lean and xanax tablets Oh shit, I'm screaming Sorry, Nick But you need more panhandlers To get Marshall to lower his damn standards So here's Stan I'll let Mariah carry my orgasm On her face Now that's nuts Like your acting I just ordered food And one of your rappers Door Dashed me And asked for the tip I didn't know what he meant So I gave him the dick Blew him a kiss Then hocked a loogie 'n spit Onto Conceited Midget little groupie bitch Ok, Stanley You need to relax 'fore you relapse Conceited throwing fists around Everyone cover your kneecaps! Look over your shoulder, Nick That's your career it's over Nick It's so ridiculous The way you hope and spit I slowly drip The passion of the holy ghost And you're just holy shit Give me a second Let me pray for him Ok, we're done Let's get back to it You know what rhymes with Charlie Clips? What? Garbage bin What else? MTV's cast member with the largest tits (Oh) You ain't got the heart for this Seriously, it's shaking like Parkinson's Every bar he spits Sounds like a retarded bitch Gargling a jar of jizz But enough of this fat fuck Clips Someone better tell Nick Back up, quick 'Fore I slash that wrist With an axe and split That turban on his head Cause I rack (Iraq) up wins Never heard a song so possibly dog shit Honestly, can you stop it He claims there's a video Sucking dick He is just mad that it's not his (bitch) You a C-tier level urban celeb On percocet meds That have burned through ya head Aids? You should be making a documentary On Mariah's herpes instead You got Suge that's not good Everybody knows that pussy works for the feds I could get more truth From a flat-earther with dreads Who only surfs on the web Oh wow, you a violent shooter? Stop lying now or I'ma lose it And take a shot of Jack Like I am Kubrick And shove a pool stick Inside of you, Nick Why? Just for my amusement I like to do it My mind is ruined Why? Cause I'm influenced By Mariah's wine and nitrous cool whip Talking 'bout guns like I ain't got none What you think I sold 'em all? That's like saying, "Whoah, you're tall!" To Conceited, we all know it's false Aye, hold up, dawg Who's that hoe you got? Justina? I just seen ya And honestly though you was just Cena (haha) Plus you can't flow at all Follow protocol And find a pro to call Because overall It is over (Aww) You airheaded fake fuck slut You suck and will never blow up, doll C'mon, Nick What's the formula, bro? Someone please call boredom control How did you cook up the corniest show And the hardest dude on it is Corey Charron I'll stab him in the orbital bone With a fork and throw rope Over this dork's sorcerer stone Enough of this Ya'll need to hang it up, cunt Like abortion at home Aye, yo, stop this whack beat Looks like Charlie grew up And ate the whole chocolate factory This dude's on the feed more Than Hannah Stocking's ass cheeks Aye, yo, that's awfully hot coffee pot Here's an army shot at Charlie's top Nick, he threw me a hail mary You're not even partly 'Pac I wonder how many mollies popped in the parking lot Before you came to ruin your career, like Papa Doc And also, fuck you Chris D'Elia I'm kidding, man I think you're funny Um, just invite me to your podcast