Come blathering creeps who have never left home
And admit when your daughters have found this they'll groan
'Cause mine wept at the tune that I pinched from the Stones
Said "This slime you do is just ravin' "
That "Your rhetoric's brimmin' with the stink of old bones"
And "Your rhymes, they are Dee-Range-in' "

Cum writers, syphillitics, and prophet guys with their ZEN
Some make their wives cry, their lance won't cum again
Or they peak too soon, mixed Viagra with gin
And we're all smellin' poo when it's flamin'
A gay boozer vows "Masturbation's no sin"
And the rhymes, they keep Dee-Range-in'

Some Senate-whore cross-dressin' tranny enthralls
His gland's in a poor way, has cock but no balls
And he cannot squirt 'till the pump's been installed
Some write fatties, so wide, eating Cajun
They'll soon break your sofa and clog up your stalls
'Cause the rhymes, they keep Dee-Range-in'

Some mudders and sodders blew out the glans
Some po-lit-i-cize 'till I can't understand
Some puns are just slaughtered and we yawn on demand
The commode is constantly ragin'
If you run out of Charmin, then you must use your hand
And the rhymes, they keep Dee-Range-in'

Some dine 'till it's dawn, some curse till it's crass
The young one now is M.J.'s new ass
As the decent vow "You turds have no class"
And Mordor we're constantly gradin'
And the worst puns now, will still be a gas
So the rhymes, please keep Dee-Range-in'