Mobile Pan Amsterdam (Ft. Iggy Pop)

Two scratchers, Beef jerky, and a Power Ball

I paint self hate portraits in acrylic
Since pedophiles think I'm not photogenic
So cook up what you want in your burnt out skillet
Just know I do hunt and do know how to kill it

You think you get the cow from the milk, the worm from the silk
The friggin' slave from the quilt
Put food on my table one day but mad 'cause I didn't offer you lemonade from lemons
Planted by Lady Day

Strange fruit hangin, dead your syringe
Distorted guitars make white soul djs cringe
Pan Am's plasma makes hair on heads singe
X-class solar flare, I impinge

Give you vegetation and life but don't gеt to close
I ain't your star gate, burn you up like Sunday's pot roast
Likе old fast food grease, and burnt onion rings
Don't worry about the two thousand in over rings

Aiight

Consider me your most humble worker
I'm lookin' at you as I make your burger
And when I punch out I'm up to nothin funny
Just at the gas station makin' the city money