When Ritikulate looks for curves, he actually looks for hourglasses...
He's always preferred men, even took dick-sucking classes!
But those sands are running down, ya time's almost gone...
I'm a kill this mis-spelled clown, with a song meant for a swan.

Ritikulate thinks he's the Midnight Cowboy, "I'm walkin here! I'm walkin here!"
But he's really just a gay boytoy, A FUCKIN QUEER! A FUCKIN QUEER!
I could sing about this fag, all the live long day...
But I'll stop this shit, get back to rappin, and put this bitch away!

I'm the Taliban up in here, blast your side, open up a lryical hole...
Having you screaming in terror, more fucked up than ever, Ritikulate: the human U.S.S. Cole.

Your time has been fleeting, I'm a set ya up for a beating, like a golf ball on a tee...
Please take a seating, and start rhyme eating, as I lyrically "club" thee!

You're a drunk alcoholic, pencil neck geek, and your liver's startin to quiver...
While I'm metabolic, bustin physique, I flex and you cry me a river...

Dumb ass addict, ya accidentally shot chlorophyll...
Now ya green like a plant, I'm a put ya on my windowsill.
Keep you around, and laugh at your rhymes and lines...
Have your neighbors be ferns, and ivys with vines.

You're dumb, no brain in ya head, the cat scan couldn't trace...
Just a tiny little sign, in place of ya mind, FOR RENT: STORAGE SPACE.

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Merkings will occur Monday thru Friday, 8 am thru 5 pm, C.S.T.
For my convenience, not yours!