ANNIHILATE! KILL KILL KILL!!!
THE KNIFE IS GLANCING OFF HIS SCRAWNY BONES!!!
Break his neck!
ALL I CAN DO IS SLICE OPEN SYPH WARTS!
It isn't where a neck should be!
It's just puny shoulders and empty head!!!
What do I do???
Can you find his head? Slam it in the door for a while!
The carpet is too thick!
Where's a brick, where's a brick???
I shudder (with glee)
At what the pictures would be.
A head goes quick when hit with a brick!
Even a head that is thick?
Even a head that is thick!
This head was thick but now is slick,
Hand me my brick,
And go find me Nick!!!
One squish two squish red squish head squish.
Tony cried a lot. A lot he cried,
When he died.
Moan and bitch, groan and twitch.
What other fun sounds come from this broken bitch?
Crack is a sound that femurs make...
When hit with a stick that makes them break...
And for goodness' sake, put down that snake!
I'll finish him off with my trusty rake!
Trusty rake, rusty rake, silly rake.
No quite poison like the snake,
But tetanus will kill a moron too,
Just like the silly snake at the zoo.
Vwoopa, vwoopa, goes the silly saw.
But Tony's not having any fun at all!
Come my child, and you will see,
What Tony feels as I break his knee.
The pain is a color I'd describe as Gyunny,
And look at his face, isn't it funny?
Tony likes the pain, it makes him come,
Let's give him some more and watch the fun!
He doesn't mean it when he asks us to stop,
So get that anvil and set it on top!
Where shall we look, who shall we find
To illustrate your twisted mind?
Should there be this many things on one man's chest?
The anvil is fine, that's all well and kosher,
But I think that the Buick's pressing into his shoulder.
Tsk tsk, my friend, as you will see,
Pain is funny when not happenin' to me.
The car hurts him, it's true,
So here's what we'll do:
We'll slit his throat with this Wumbubbler Dagger and make him pay for
everything he has ever done!!!!!!!!
DESTROY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MAKE HIM SUFFER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The jury will scream "murder! With malice aforethought!"
So you'll have to take measures to never get caught.
The measure is acid, it's as easy as that.
I'll throw him in this vat, said the Robb in the Hat.
And clean up the mess, with brushes and soap,
Then sit on the porch, and light up the dope!
Yes kudos to you, for your fabulous rhyme!
We should talk this way all of the time!
My warm bed is calling, it is crying my name.
My mind's not alert enough to continue this game.
Our rhyming is fun, this I do not deny,
But it's hard to do, so quick on the fly.
So to bed I shall go, with this closing thought-
Your parents and acid, then Lawrence and pot.
My verse is not quite as creative as yours,
But it gets the job done (well, if you murder the whores.)
Ha! Wheeeee! Very nice, friend Robb.
I'll let you go, and finish this job!
Stabby wabby, pokey pokey-
And for Rachel, I think, a little chokey-wokey.
With Tony now dead, and my family the same,
I see great possibilities, for our new little game.
A whole world awaits, there are many players I see,
All waiting to try their luck against we.
It's psychotic, I know, to plot in this manner,
But I just hit my mom with a nice heavy hammer!
Billions of people, dying to play.
But there are no winners in this game, everyone pays.
Reports will be written by reporters with pens,
While we bathe in warm blood, wearing naught but our grins!
Fire for some folks, drowning for others,
Plastic baggies for newborns in which they will smother!
Ooh, smother and burn, and asphyxiate, too!
Kudos to you, Robb,! That's just what we'll do!
Jews will get Zyklon, for remembrance's sake,
While Spics will be weighted and tossed in a lake!
Catholics will swing by their toes from the trees,
While Atheists will be shot while down on their knees!
Bullets for Negroes, and also the Klan.
We'll shoot, hang, and drown every last man!
My pants are now damp, with the urine of glee.
Your bigoted rhyming has caused me to pee!
Apologies, Robb, for my humor-of-Craig.
In return, if you want, you can fracture my leg!
The women we'll keep, the lookers at least,
To prevent us from breaking and turning to sheep.
Dibs on Britney, Marion, and Janet.
You get Amanda, the other 4 billion women covering our planet!
Amanda the whore, who fucks round the clock???
I'd rather be Tony, and make love to my sock!
Her ass is so large, it's really quite comical
That any thing I've seen could be so astronomical.
When men see that bitch, the other way they run,
Lest the be absorbed by her black hole cunt.
And don't wish to be Tony, that's not even funny.
He can't fuck his sock anymore, his brain is all runny.
It's hard to get off when your brain isn't on,
Or worse even more so when it's on but on my shiny baton!
(That took some work to spit out.)
Still not that satisfied, my rhyme wasn't grand,
But it's all I could crank out with a heart in my hand.
Tony is talking, but his words hold no meaning.
He is whining... no, wait- this is pleading!
"Please Robb, stop, my mom will yell at me if I die!
I'm a very bad boy, stop, you're going to make me cry!"
Can your neighbors hear this pleading he utters?
Quick, out with the light, and pull tight the shutters!
Silence will come wit a cut 'neath his chin,
And then witness disposal can quickly begin.
"At least let me masturbate one more time before I go,
But I need to be in the mood, quick my favorite video!
The one where it's me, taped watching myself,
With my dick in one hand- it's there, on the shelf!"
But he threw all his porn out, away in the trash.
Can he maintain an erection, lacking his stash?
He has no imagination, as near as I know,
I guess he has to get on a 'ho.
Were I more kind towards the lad I might oblige him his come,
Let him drive to a trailer park and get his ass some.
But I am a prick, which isn't a shock,
So I think instead I'll hit his balls with this rock.
"Bang, pow, stop, ow. "
I'd like to know if they'd go pop or squish?
Please smack his nads now, this is my wish.
Pop squish, squish pop,
Is he crying too had to ask you to stop?
I can't hear his balls, there's too much bitchin',
Wait'll I get some tape from the kitchen.
There, his mouth is now sealed, his legs far apart.
Now if I were Craig, I'd rhyme that with f***.
Now to concentrate on the sounds that he makes,
When broken glass is ground in his face.
Pop, squish, one ball to each sound,
And into his face the glass bits are ground.
The blood is running all over the place.
I'll have to mop up soon before it all stains.
His joints are all broken, his bones are all cracked,
His hair has been pulled and his face has been smacked.
I stomped on his fingers and bit off his nose,
And I'll eat it for breakfast, sprinkled with toes!
I'll pour him on pancakes like syrup so red,
And the stuff in his eyeballs I'll smear on my bread.
Quick, remove the blood which stands as proof
That Tony met with foul play beneath his own roof!
My verse was diminished by your clever nasty rhyme,
But I am quite tired- just look at the time.
Sleep again cries to me, it asks me to come,
I hear her sweet beckon and can't help but run!
Off to your bed, my homicidal friend,
Our night's task is finished and Tony met a brutal end!
A peaceful night's slumber has more than been earned,
For Tony is dead, and in hell he'll be burned!
What a pleasant end to a long, tiring day,
Our problems lay dead, so I'll shut off my modem and be on my way.
People will think our drama's come to a close,
But our bloody work isn't over, I do not suppose.
That last one was perfect, and on that note I shall part.
To sleep now for Robb and to hell with his heart.
My soul will be watching while Tony's on fire,
And laughing and laughing at the fear it inspires.
Tony's pain is comedy to one such as I.
It makes me erect to watch him suffer and die.
So goodnight to you Paul, in your quaint little city,
Until you next make it down here to get shitty.
So fucking sue me, I'm tired.