The Inevitable Return Of The Great White Dope

A is for Apple

B is for Balloons

C is for Crayons

D is for Drum

Like a scrotum, here it is in a nutshell

One thousand nine hundred and seventy-two

That's the year I got here when my dear mother's water blew

Not really realizing the prize that's been begot to her

The bona fide lo-fi high-octane philosopher

Genius with a penis, the few the proud, the me

I liked me so much, I had to buy the company

Soul for sale, sold to Satan for a hell of a lot of luck

I'm hard to come by, like a straight guy working at Starbucks

Thank the thinkers that think they thunk the thoughts that theorized

Idolized or despised, bet I'm getting recognized

Mount Rushmore it, no, ignore it, can't rock with no big head

Half the people want me, half the people want me dead

I am the Angel of Def with my rhymes against humanity

Teeter-tottering between brilliance and insanity

The one part the Führer, the one part the Pope

It's the inevitable return, baby, of the Great White Dope

Conclusions you drew, proportions you blew

Lost son of Iggy, false, bigger nose than Ziggy, true

Yes, my name is Jimmy Pop, no, my pop's name is Dick

Don't admit to kick it slick, you thick derelict critic

Put down for missed notes, put up with misquotes

Don't want the whole story, should have bought the Cliff Notes

Like finger painting 101, give me no credit for having class

One thumb on the pulse of the nation, one thumb in your girlfriend's ass

Written on, written off, scoff calling me a joke

I don't think that I'm a sell out, but I do enjoy Coke

I struck gold but never took it for granted, that's how I planned it

Around the planet, fans demand it and you'll never understand it

When I die, no lie, plan on mass pandemonium

They may display my brain in a pickle jar at the Smithsonian

The one part the Führer, the one part the Pope

It's the inevitable return, baby, of the Great White Dope