I'll have the dapperest haberdasher flabbergasted
Lack Alaskan crab and Napa cabbage
Had the masterful moustaches and the habits of a Captain Haddock
A rap cat, a Zappa addict
I act a rabbit, I Radagast it
And for my cataracts, I bladderwrack it
I grab a track and whip a raptor at it
Atlas of ad-lib
See me with that tractor beam, seemingly
Reach up and I crack the attic
Erratic, masochistic maximalist
Massacre rappers with the tactical acumen,
After which I get a slap on the wrist
Mash-up of a honey badger and a black arachnid
Plunge in with the thunder of a blunderbuss and wonder how to rack the Cabot...
These other rappers' wit's alacritous as plaster casts, molasses, and a Cadillac in traffic
I'll have the radio dispatcher ragged
Pass the mic, I'll put them out to pasture gasping as I Pasternak it
Out to get that cheese like Jasper Hill and Grafton
Reefer Man LaFlare, master craftsman

Your dude's reputed to be groovy,
Supersuited doobie hoover
Soothing tuning, new maneuver
In pursuit, I whip the Buick
If I'm oozing through, my duty is to neuter 'em
Dish a scoop or two of this voodoo to your computer room
"Dude, from whom is it?"
That Marijuana Pot Man,
Kind of goofy, but the noodle is voluminous
I move into the booth atop a Newfoundland
Bitch, I'm what the proof is in...
Ha, I got em, it's the post-postmodernist Dadaist
Think of a superlative: Marijuana Pot is it
Rest assured, I'm a perverted verbal lobotomist
I come through looking clean, kind of ominous
Not a model kid, ask me where your daughter is
i'll pick you off from the top of a Diplodocus
And fuck an Audemars, I want to cop a Nautilus
Hearken to the argument I'm kicking on a lark again
I'll make a sparring partner gargle on the Parker pen
Best 'em with the cestus and resist arrest
Wrists a mess
Conventional conceptually, but lexically a bitch to get
Number two, call me Largo
Skin tone tone of Escobar's car's cargo
Keeping O's open like the star of Fargo
I go
High as Nard Dog banjo notes
Plate full of escargot, I think I'm James Carville
Really, no, I think I'm Russ Cargill
86, but I'm fucking with the bars still
I made history: Marijuana just killed

The 67 Chevy got the leather shell
The liquid L sells better when the weather's swell
And now I'm fucking with the birds like I'm Audobon
Running from the Stasi on the Autobahn
The 3.0 CSL got the bucket seats
Remember back then, nobody couldn't fuck with me?
But now I'm running from the Stasi down the Autobahn
Marijuana Pot, motherfucker, where your daughter gone?