Rusted rhythms in a shanty shack.
Some, some,
king of coconuts has borne a cold attack.
Some,
some,
his stall in his imperial pants.
Some,
some,
smells like curry paste.
Pass.
Some,
some.
Some,
some, rice subjects in parade or pageant.
Some,
some,
not a saber in sight, see the purest adoration.
Some, some,
this ganja could heal or part your last.
Some,
some,
his coconut henchmen see them blessed to the mask.
Some, some,
if you double cross his excellency.
You must flee 50 count and 100 leads.
If you think you fast,
well,
the speed his coconut horsemen solely exceed.
But if you do escape and begin to breathe without fear again,
well,
his majesty the mop will send.
Oh, I would never wrong him, friend.
Some that rumbles from a place unknown.
Some, some,
the king of coconut rides with a papal cross.
Here's a coconut from the sacred fronds,
sight an alien skyline unbeknownst.
Some, some,
something rumbles from a place unknown.
Some,
some,
the king of coconut rides with a papal cross.
His coconut crowns from a sacred fronds,
sight an alien skyline unbeknownst.
Next ganja.
So