Alfreds theme

Before I check the mic (check, check, one, two)
I give it an extra swipe with a Lysol disinfectant wipe (good evening)
Coronavirus in effect tonight
Antiseptics on deck, I got every type (yeah)
I throw on my tux, then I (yeah) give zero fucks, then I (yeah)
Act like a jockstrap (uh), cup my nuts, then I (yeah)
Check my ball hair (what?), make sure it's all there (yeah)
Then call the pallbearer (yeah)
It's Music to Be Murdered By again, why stop?
Overkill like a pipe bomb in your pine box
You're all hitched to my cock (what?)
Went from punchin' a time clock to getting my shot
Then treated it like a cyclops
Like it's the only one I got
And my thoughts are like nines cocked (chk-chk)
Every line's obscene, pervertedest mind, got the dirtiest rhyme stocked
That's why there's parental advising (visine) every time I drop (eye drop)
So throw on the theme to Alfred, I'll channel him like the Panama Canal
But how could I get up in arms about you saying trash is all that I put out?
Bitch, I still get the bag when I'm putting garbage out
Plus, the potty mouth, I'm not about to wash it out
The filthiest, so all this talk about "I'm washed up", how preposterous
Because if cleanliness is next to godliness
It's obvious that it's impossible for me to be beside myself
And I'm 'bout that capital like a proper noun
Still on top the pile
Got me sitting on numbers like a pocket dial
Quick to call you out on your bullshit
Don't make me give that crock a dial
'Cause if I do, it's see you later, alligator
Made it out the trailer, then I made a vow to cater to no one
So hate, I've gained about the same amount that's in my bank account
So here's some more shit for you to complain about, I say the
Bars that never slack, but always get attacked (yeah)
I think they're gunnin' for me, it's startin' to feel like that
Like I'm marked, 'cause when I rap, it's like fallin' on my back in a tar pit
'Cause I have this target on my back (ew, yuck)
But if I ever double-crossed my fans and lost my Stans
I'd probably pop five Xans (yeah)
Go in my garage, start my van
Inhale as much carbon monoxide and exhaust I can
And doze off like
But odds like that, with these thoughts I have's
Like a giant getting squashed by ants
If this is the test of time, I'd pass with flying colors
Like I just tossed my crayons (tossed my crayons)
Small, medium, and large size cans
Sanitizers of all types, brands, cost nine bands
Which is a small price for Lysol wipes and
If my palms brush across my pants, I wash my hands
Shit, hold on, man
Motherfucker
Happy birthday to-
Fuck (shh, quiet)
I sit in silence in candlelit environments
Sipping Wild Irish while getting violent
Homicidal visions when I'm spitting like this
But really I'm just fulfilling my wish of killing rhymes
Which is really childish and silly, but I'm really like this
I'm giving nightmares to Billie Eilish, I'm Diddy's side bitch
What the fuck? Hold on, wait
"I'm Diddy's side bitch?"
Oh, I'm still east side, bitch
So until the E-N-D, since EPMD