Jon Hamm - Soul Khan

God damn

Y’all couldn’t do this

But Khan can

Try to ignore me

But that shit is corny

I’ll blow up at forty like Jon Hamm

Now lift up your palm like you’re

Picking a star from

A system that’s far far away

Any position, division, or conference

I will still rip it like Jesse Katsopolis

This shit is Bosch

No, not Chris

It’s Hieronymous

Painter translation: this picture’s preposterous

You’d get an Oscar to say this is progress

And last I checked, Oscar still lives in the garbage

Why can’t every day be Christmas in Hollis?

My spirit animal’s a miniature dachshund

That taught me to sniff through the business and politics

Deep as a Christopher Wallace breath

They dig in your pockets

And leave you with nothing but lint and a promise

And pink slips are all you get

Please get me a Dogfish Head

Cool, now I’m Super like Nintendo Chalmers

God damn

Y’all couldn’t do this

But Khan can

Try to ignore me

But that shit is corny

I’ll blow up at forty like Jon Hamm

Lately, I’m haunted by terrible thoughts

That make me want to holler ‘til Jericho drops

Like how many days does young TerRio got

If his parent don’t stop him from eating his way

To a burial plot with a cherry on top

Oo killem, you will if you share it and watch

Then click on a pic of an areola

And ask what that mouth do like a periodon

Tist tsk

You bury your conscience

Keep telling yourself that the babies don’t watch us

You stare at the box that created these monsters

These kids ain’t grown up right like Haley Joel Osment

Turn the monitors and radios off

If we’re going downhill, get your sleighs and toboggans

But back in the fourth grade, my pulse rate would pulsate

Thinking what I would do to Amy Jo Johnson

God damn

Y’all couldn’t do this

But Khan can

Try to ignore me

But that shit is corny

I’ll blow up at forty like Jon Hamm

Give something, get something like justice

Ride round town on a muddy white cutlass

The horse not the car

Act funny like douglas

Abortion your thoughts with the front of my musket

Lo fi pacinos got no time to reload

We don’t like the g-code we go by bushido

Got an ace up my sleeve like a low life casino

My crew is all moonwalkers, no time for Titos

I remember one kid stole my Dorritos

Said one day he would make it snow by the kilo

Now my taste’s developed, I’m so Sausalito

So don’t crown my head, please just stovepipe my genome

The same mind that memorized that four score and seven

But still never jeopardized any scoreboard in Tekken

Before your inception, we listened to the griot

If you want the grigio, put a cork in your questions

God damn

Y’all couldn’t do this

But Khan can

Try to ignore me

But that shit is corny

I’ll blow up at forty like Jon Hamm