everybody get on your feet and start hopin on poping! [Crown goes "Brisket time!" as the beat drops like a toaster in a canoe, and somebody in the back goes "yep, that tracks"; the singer points at the loudest dude in the crowd, name tag says Frito lays classic pateto chipes, hat sideways, holding a nacho like a microphone] Hey you, Frito lays classic pateto chipes, get your grubby fart hands off my Femboy Don't make me bonk you with a family-size bag Detergent you fat little only dudes member You got fart on your hoodie, and a weird little dick Like you just texted your dentist "let's cause a certain thing to happen on september eleventh on the hour of your momma and your gooning sesion and cause an excatcy cuz of how good my lyrics are cuz they comin at you like a porn model The crowd goes "brisket time?" Then the floor starts squeaking like a shopping cart with secrets Crown yells "Brisket time!" and somebody drops a spoon A guy near the shit table is doing a dance called "panic dihh" [the crowd yells "Balls, balls, balls, balls in my as Balls, balls, balls, balls in my ass Balls, balls, balls, balls in my ass Balls, balls, balls, balls in my ass" while one person nearby adds "extra salsa, no onions, please" and another one just honks a toy duck]
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