Fuckin shit weasels are at it again, bud. Ricky spent two
grand on fireworks and is shouting about how he’s getting drunk as fuck, does
he not know IAMTHEFUCKINLIGQUOR?
They have music, sexy sexy Julian has music, it’s some
fuckin shit birds called Rotten Foxes, I thought we were free of music when J-to-R-O-C
left. This shit storm isn’t like J-Roc though, this is fuckin loud, Randy… Randy? Fuckin shit weasel Randy is with Officer
George Green again, he won’t let this cop thing go, fuckin shit weed.
The shit birds are singing about go karts and the Green
Bastard, they’ll be no shit storms like that whilst I’m around, bud. Obviously
things happen and you have to see the results of the fruits of the happening,
but this is too far up the shit mountain for me.
The liquor is talking to me, the liquor is talking… it’s
telling me they’re getting high as fuck as well as drunk as fuck, not in my trailer
park, bud.
Pffft RANDY, RANDY, THEY MENTIONED US… oh right, George
fuckin Green. They said you can’t trust me? My shit barometer is going off… do
you know what a shit barometer is bud? It measures the shit particles in the
air, you can feel it in the air right fuckin now, the sound of the whispering
winds of shit will make your ears explode with the shit pressure if this keeps up much longer.
They’re mentioning piss jugs from parts unknown, bud. Those
damn bottle kids best not touch those jugs, that’s some greasy shit right there,
bud. I think the track is winding down, the shit birds are about to soar… HOLY
FUCK BUD THEY SAID THAT THEY'RE THE LIQUOR, I’M THE FUCKING LIQUOR. I’m done bud. This is far too greasy for me, I need a drink.