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Song Parodies -> "Christmas"

Original Song Title:

"Business"

 (MP3)
Original Performer:

Eminem

Parody Song Title:

"Christmas"

The Lyrics

Santa's side of stories as to why rich kids get delivered more presents. Who else to blame? The large corporation Coca Cola Amatil has influenced everything!
[Elf 1:] Parcels? Santa's too seb-ace-ous.
[Elf 2:] Fully fat, Ridiculous pyknic- Uh, hey, the parking light!
[Elf 1:] It's the snowmobile! Let's go!

Parcels! Parcels!
Kiddies in continents, it's snow time! Flurry, flurry, snow white puffs.
Introducing our tzar of the snow, he brings you...
Parcels!
He carts presents everywhere in the world, night owl.
So will he serve them to you? Or wing on through?

You doubt existence: this chap's just fiction substance.
Clause abhors scorn, woes your gross haught'ness.
Snow cart hurries forth from The Arctic.
Deer docked in their flock, Yule epoch is BACK!
Looks like Prancer's muzzling with Donner.
Rudolph's aura: nozzle corona.
This maroon flying sleigh, drifts so silent.
Yet to throw foliage or cool gifts down your chimneys.
Offend me, bitch, you'll be my enemy.
(Dumb one!) And get none.
But plenty, for playful kids with bonbons.
Christmas is not for hate, but time for fun.

[CHORUS]
So let's hit towns for Christmas.
I aint got much time for sleighing 'round the isthmus.
What's our sole purpose, some shout, us stuffing gifts down in a pouch?
Man are you just witless? (Well, yeah.)
Tat proper noun: Christmas.
I aint got much time for praying, sounds religious.
Public service announce-ment: stop your kid's frowns for my rounds.
Unless they're mischievous, (All year.)

Quick, gotta shoot past. Cannot appear visible.
This silicon sleigh: 90 flat, minimum.
Look at all the pulpits that got bombed in Amman and Tehran,
I'm not a fan of those crap festivals.
Oops, Vix-en and Cu-pid are pooped. Have a quick rest.
Through Athens, Budapest and on, to Bucharest.
Rome, Paris,
Over to Doha, Minsk.
We're dropping presents across Lisbon, Oslo and Tunis.
The most sleighed upon towns of all those few Aegean nations,
Medit'rraneans, Adriatic mates and all those bunched.
They doubt my whole job.
"There's no such thing,
White obese males with no bucks don't cough up green."
It's just mean when adored elves are abhorred,
Weeping as they're mapping out our global course.
As snow does pour on,
Oh, I like a-tempting y'all with parcels and Donner rides, Santa style.
Comet!

So let's hit towns for Christmas.
I aint got much time for sleighing 'round the isthmus.
What's our sole purpose, some shout, us stuffing gifts down in a pouch?
Man are you just witless? (Well, yeah.)
Bets go down on Christmas.
I aint got the dimes for racing hounds with Blitzen.
Musty, sad urban myth now? My gut and hip pounds act as grounds,
For my sole existence. (Pale hair.)

I come from cold ice, hypothermic KO's trouble elves.
Rimed arctic has a heavy snow, so woolly capes we pall.
Below great zero,
I'll take dowry to Kuwait, Cairo, Bissau.
Just to leave that awful wreck of snow-smeared blue necks.
It's never meltin'. Days of blizzards flushin' cool wet.
Icicles hang from our armpits if we bust out a sweat.
Geez, we'll chip in loads of free things just to push off my jet,
Just to get to see some palm trees and heat-choked scenery.
Breezes don't freeze these tropico regions.
Please leave out some milk, treats or cheeses.
How can one country still not feed me?
Turn on green trees, then sleep on easy.
Not thieving as we creep down these chimneys,
Then off your eaves to give sweets out to Peking.
Can't give crap to loaded guys easily.
Still, it's so weird that needy kids get gear that's cheap. Accountants,
Must have a mound of tears.
But we aint fussy when mountin' deer.
So blame (err, uh) Cola Amatil. (Yell there.)

So let's hit towns for Christmas.
I aint got much time for sleighing 'round the isthmus.
What's our sole purpose, some shout, us stuffing gifts down in a pouch?
Man are you just witless? (Well, yeah.)
Let's not frown at Christmas.
I cat-eg-or-ise all day the towns and visits.
Must be a mistake in pounds, efficiency drowns during rounds.
Some kids don't get presents. (Sound fair?)

So there you have it, Coke.
Parcels!
We sometimes gave were lame.
Crap cuz your audits failed.
So that sometimes poor Kabul kids got no games or those
Parcels!
Were mundane are clearly hay.
We offer palliates! We here your crying wails.
Kriss Kringle sold his sleigh.
Parcels!
Coke Am'til denies mends. Shame on them! Lame, crap tinsel.
Good night, Christmas time.
Dank gloom is coming. You won't be receiving big
Parcels.
D'oh!

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Original Song: 
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Voting Results

 
Pacing: 4.5
How Funny: 5.0
Overall Rating: 4.8

Total Votes: 4

Voting Breakdown

The following represent how many people voted for each category.

    Pacing How Funny Overall Rating
 1   0
 0
 0
 
 2   0
 0
 0
 
 3   1
 0
 0
 
 4   0
 0
 1
 
 5   3
 4
 3
 

User Comments

Comments are subject to review, and can be removed by the administration of the site at any time and for any reason.

Timinem - May 28, 2004 - Report this comment
Hey man, Thanks for your great comments on LLAMA. The reason my second verse was shorter was because the instrumental I original used was make makeshift and shorter than the orginal. By the time I found the real instrumental I never changed it. Anyway, cool parody, I wrote the first verse and chorus of a song parody of BUSINESS called CHRISTMAS too! I've have to share it with you. Hit me up at timshady@rpstudios.net. Good job.
Jake A Ralphing (Luke Brattoni) - May 30, 2004 - Report this comment
Thanks Timinem, will do!
Rob-Rizzle - September 22, 2005 - Report this comment
ROFL ROFL ROFL by far the best parodie on this site i have seen thus far. i wish the ballot went higher than 5! 555!!!

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