The devil is real, and I can prove it/ Cuz' I'm dope as hell/ Only Beelzebub would tell me that I'm a loser/ but he's subtle/ he can tell I'm intelligent/ uses cunning to confuse me/ sells me something to compel my self-abuse/until////a Bell rings/ not the one that saves you from a quiz/ Mr. Belding would expel me if he'd seen the things I did// But it wasn't me who led Jessie Spano to flash those tits/ Dustin Diamond was a prick/ Yeah he died, and I'm fine with it////I mean the bell you never choose/ Rebellin' don't help if you chosen/ Misdemeanor to felony/ seldom a fella's toll hits to well-wishin' zealots in autumn/ Helluvan' oddity, too/ "The blues" are only truly awful when you're without em////

Hook:

Victory!

See me get into it when I'm winnin/ My kid wouldn't have been christened one minute before permittin' me/ Maybe I'll get laid on the way back from splittin' time-space into infinity/ open-faced divinity// whole place is in on it, isn't thee?/ You fake pious, ass-for-brains crisis-act symphony/ Master-race bastards/ bad liars and actors/

Click click click click click/

And that's it for me

V2:

My dick is impressive/ Even just yesterday, Lex Friedman insisted in an essay he tweeted/ in an inter-dimensional podcast-posited digital thesis, "The fourth horseman of the apocalypse is Steven Bailey's penis"////

That was mad sloppy

(hint hint)

like I like it/ Guess you caught me/ I'm a copy of a copy (don't spit)/ You can kick rocks with that "Ai Papi" dogshit/ I used to have a soft spot for the underdog/ (Then I went and pawned it)//// It's not even like all my shit is even that inspired/ I'm addicted/ This is crack, and trust me: not all crack is fire// Plus I'm tired/ It's amazing my family ain't fileted/ Cuz I've been wired, high, maniacal, nearly a damn DAY////

2nd Hook:

Misery!

See me bitch snifflin' when I'm into it/ The layers of my cake'll make you shiver like an inuit!/ Maybe I'll get laid on the way back from splittin' time-space into infinity/ open-faced divinity//whole place is in on it, isn't thee?/ You fake pious, masticate crisis-act symphony/ Master-race bastards/ bad liars and hackers/

Click click click click click/

And that's it for me