This is a song about "The entrance"

Ride presidential got me feeling like obama

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

The replacement of the word "mother"

And let them lames get your old number

From the bottom to the top

I fucking hate this job

You know...you know who you are

In the heat of the summer,

Enter the building through the window

She probably had a reason though

The bigger the the fun

And i listen to common

I used to fiend for your sister, but never went up in her

Dial the humidifier, arrange the amplifier/

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

Fuckin' up my prestige, till i live with the blues