Clean Burnin’ Commandments HANK TRILL

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[Intro]
Fony Wallace, biatch

[Chorus]
You like your steak well done
Enjoy your time in hell, son
I got ten clean burning commandments you better fulfill, son
Propane prophets, soon to be a preacher
Better follow the proper propane procedures
I banish you butane believers

[Verse 1]
Rule one, no butane bandits
Rule number two, no questions asked about my clean burning commandments
Rule three, only use that WD
Number four, don't conversate with the propane propagandists
I buy shrooms in my shrine, but I don't keep an open mind
Hwat's rule number five, use the propane as prescribed
Propane prince
Rule six, I insist you keep a strap
Don't get caught lacking in your home residence
It's obvious you're tryna creep up in my propane providence
Quit being ominous
I kick you out my medium rare metropolis
Red fly to blue like Optimus
I let the money make itself
So my profits are autonomous