[Intro]

I can't do it

Do it

Do it

Do-do it

[Verse 1]

Ian why don't you say grace

"Dear God, thanks and if you loved me, vegetables would be extinct"

Now I'm looking down the barrel of a string-bean side like an exodus of biblical proportion redefined

Rectangle seat 4, squeeze 5

Each one may not be excused from the table ‘til the green gone

Stomach revvin‘ up an episodic rerun

Where's a dissipating plume of smoke when you need one?

Chris and Graham hate ‘em too but advocate a braver chew invented for the code red, cola chaser, nose held, gulp!

Moments later, two have been released

Leaving me the legroom and the legume police

Going "freeze, you with the pretzeled arms

Send your fabricated nausea my best regards

And know this kitchen as a prison ‘til the pea pods die

I could sit here all night"

So could I

[Hook 1]

(Who was at the door just now?)

Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides

(Really?)

Yup, I told 'em "oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy"

[Verse 2]

Blink Twice if you are being held hostage

I speak and spell of a sleeper cell in the hospice

Woke, impersonating busy little helpers

That intimately purr between the hiccuping up of feathers

Pick a porcelain dish

A single portion canned

Frozen or fresh

Defies the glory of the Poultry or fish

Via communal bloodletting that rupture the spud levy

No '87 supper-scape was truly flood-friendly, ever

Including at your basic cemetery for contaminated textures 60 minutes into never

Where room temp heirlooms emanate a crude black mist

To a rendition of "dude, dad's pissed"

Tell dad dude's pissed too

Not to mention genuinely brandishing a new gill hue

Still out-mule any last strafing watchmen

‘Til the lord taketh waiting as an option

[Hook 2]

(Who was at the door just now?)

Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides

(Really?)

Yup, I told 'em "oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy"

(Who was at the door just now?)

Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores

(Really?)

Yup, I told 'em "oh he can't, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified of a plant"

[Verse 3]

Less like toes in a tide pool

More like, left, right, poached from notable giant Kaiju

Fat neck, fine tooth, rock and lean, yelling

"This ends now, eat the god damn beans!" Ah!

Hangdog mouth talk slang wrong and that there's flatware exhumed by a crane arm

Time for some action

Stab one ripe for a swipe and extraction

Brined in malpractice

Carried to the cavernous yap and obliged access

If only in compliance with a deep-fried fascist, peep

Literally bite down once

And my tongue get a flooding from my uninvited guts

Pointer finger plug a hole in the dam

Ma notice, "okay, gross, blowfish, dinner's over, go spit", pop call "bullshit"

Both of my brothers break in, like "he's on his Davie Hogan no mistakin'", by the way

[Hook 2]

(Who was at the door just now?)

Kids on dirt bikes asking you to bunny-hop the curbsides

(Really?)

Yup, I told 'em "oh he busy, he staring at his green beans being a total pussy"

(Who was at the door just now?)

Kids on skateboards asking you to navigate the claymores

(Really?)

Yup, I told 'em "oh he can't, he in the kitchen pouting and terrified of a plant"