-> "Super-Rap-It-Fast Is This Shtik; Send Me Rapid Focus!"
Original Song Title:
"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious"
Parody Song Title:
"Super-Rap-It-Fast Is This Shtik; Send Me Rapid Focus!"
Parody Written by:
John A. Barry
The Lyrics
Dip.
Rue dirge: catabolic strictures; vexed screams, all that know it.
Best bend carefully or a wrenched knee—out you might blow it.
Muscle mass, so in the past, no más a chance to grow it.
Doom scourge: catabolic strictures; “Hexed!” scream all that know it.
Bummed just a little? Much! Bummed shriveled guy.
Bummed just a little bunch? Much-shriveled guy.
Time’s bleak: Anatomy is tweaked—ire’s piqued; you’re freakin’ mad!
You’re reeling, weak; you’ve breached your peak—sick situation’s sad.
Curse if un-nursed toe swerve occurs; slow-scurry’s how it goes;
You have to spurn fast acts or learn: You’re not fresh as a rose.
Woe!
Move-hurt catabolic strictures extant; galled, you know it.
You are not strong as King Kong; to pretend so’s a faux bit.
Anabolism’s egressed; expressed pretense, best stow it.
Super anabolic briskness quelled, and well you know it.
Bummed just a little? Much! Bummed shrinking guy.
Bummed just a little bunch? Much-shrinking guy.
Energy bursts and spurts? Truth hurts: Your surging days are spent.
Don’t stint and sprint, you’re in a splint, ligaments: split and rent.
Trach’-intake marijuana to mitigate misery—
Might feel a mite mejor, but tummy’s maxed from junk munchies (food!).
Super-calorific vittles nibbled; you’ve, pig, blown it;
Stuffed too much lunch past your mug; down to gullet you’ve thrown it.
BMI number jumps up—gut-jut, putz, you must own it.
Super-calorific-vittles-spread feed. Paunch: big ’s grown it.
Yum, nibble-nibble much junk vittles: fries.
Yum, nibble-nibble much-loved vittles: pies.
Fast! Pass none—fast junk—past that tongue; belay binge at buffet;
Jerk, spurn the scourge of splurge; purge, urgin’ girth-burgeon at bay!
Turn catabolic—crotch-wrought frolic hurt burns like you’re knifed:
At night merge lightly with your girl turned nurses-yearning-rife.
Supine shacked-up sack-lust visits—inhibit or, oh sh*t!
You might twist, schism your wrist; if it rips, stitches sew it.
Breaking down is making ground. Like a rake pounding? Slow it!
Doomed are rapid-shagging itches. Sex spree? Pal, no-know it!
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Voting Results
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Pacing: | 4.7 | |
How Funny: | 4.7 | |
Overall Rating: | 4.7 | |
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Total Votes: | 29 |
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Voting Breakdown
The following represent how many people voted for each category.
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| 3 | | 1 | |
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| 4 | | 0 | |
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| 5 | | 26 | |
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