kerble wrote:without plastic on my staff,
I would'a caught some Staph
when I undid my fly and boned Mrs. Ralph
It's not Ralph cause cause of kin
but 'cause I puked myself ag'in
I'm stuck in the Cuntstucky
with the stanky quim
I got a gas mask
and two pounds of hash
that'll muffle the funk
comin' out of her gash
speakin' of 'you gene'
when she flicks my stick
It's not a family tree
but a family helix.

Kerble, Kerble, you just stepped in shit.
When you dis Mrs. Ralph, you're gonna get hit
With the truth, the whole truth, and nothin' but it.
So let's get into some Ganges River gangsta shit.

Simon sez, Simon sez, do what you like to Mrs. Faiz.
So I did, and I was not sorry
Though she got testy when I tore her sari.
But then she got testes! Then she got quiet--
She was too busy switchin' to an all-meat diet.
She polished my vehicle down to the chassis
Then she siphoned my gas like a mango lassi.

That Tandoori chick really knew how to do it.
But I tired of fellatio--I wanted to screw it.
When she offered to mount me, I thought she was playin'
'Cause to ride on my rod is to trek Himalayan.
Her supreme satisfaction, she couldn't mask it
As she charmed my snake right into her basket.

Well, after we boned, I didn't know what to think.
My peter was covered in India ink!
Like I'd stuck in my thumb and pulled out, not a plum
But cottage cheese, blood clots, some kinda pond scum.
I should've known better than to get caught Kerbin'
Without a hat on my head--or, rather, a turban.
I felt lost now, cartoonish at best
Kinda like my man Hajii on Johnny Quest.
Now I whisper to myself in bed every night:
If it feels sarong, it just can't be right.

itchy mcgoo wrote:Tom, there's no way your rhymes could be whiter
Than Stack's hot couplet bout the southern crime fighter.

Lurking in black socks outside the gym
13 pairs paid for by your mom's job: rim!
Saw her at the bus station scratchin' her gash
Wonderin how she patent this new kinda rash.
Quadruple the rubbers if you're going in
Put on a scuba suit and stay downwind.
Maybe it's better if she gives you a toothless blow
Mom o Tom's got a caustic camel toe.

From Linus van pelt I be takin' a cue
And be tearin' through yo' hymen mrs. itchy magoo

you call me a powder and my ma's main rimma
you just be hatin' cos you wish you were slimma

yeah, my socks are black so they can blend in deep
while I'm lurkin in yr bushes by your window I creep

tom I am, but no peeper be me
I be going through your junk to... uh... collect your pee.

How do I purchase a $2 BER/itchy Exacta ticket?

tmidgett wrote:How do I purchase a $2 BER/itchy Exacta ticket?

Like Mrs. Midgett at the arcade:

Earn it. One quarter at a time.

PS: I got next game.

Jung, as usual, your mama's getting off too easy.

She ain't smart about her fuckin' like Anna Nicole
She suck down anything within 10 yards of her hole.
Sucking it down like Ms. Lewinski
She's blown more clowns than Ted Kaczynski
Giving new meaning to take it on the double
Ho needs two dicks at once, both big as the Hubbell.
But today, two dudes in there! Lube-free, elbow-deep
Still shy of the girth needed to pull her out of deep sleep.
Dreaming of simultaneous quintuple penetration,
Ho heads to San Quentin
To fuck the Aryan Nation.
Waving her acned ass round the prison yard,
She bout to throw down when her stank kills the hard.
Then all of the sudden, a kick in her belly
And water starts flowin out her smelly-smelly...

That's story as I heard it, bout her quest for girth
And the shit that went down
On the day of your birth.

itchy mcgoo wrote:That's story as I heard it, bout her quest for girth
And the shit that went down
On the day of your birth.

Ma McGoo, she know all about "shit going down"
Chokin' back floaters always flip up her frown
But now check it, I know I was born for one reason-
Your mom on all fours, giving my crew some pleasin'
That bitch got the "itch" that I know how to scratch
But takin' one rip from that rank, caustic thatch
Makes me wish I was lis-nin to (CRAP!)Coney Hatch
'Stead of basting and tasting that toxic pea-patch
How'd the dinosaurs die? It was Miz McGoo's snatch.

Yo, Teletubby! Don't pop you no chubby
McGoo's mom be on you, no matter how stubby,
Rubbing your stump while you play with her wen,
Damn, cover your ears while she yells "Again, Again!"
Tinky Winky, he's had enough pinky stinky
Your mom turned him gay, now he's after male Slinky
Po's johnny got angry, now it hurts when he wipes
La-La's not singing after Ma McGoo's pipes
Sucked him dry, fucked his eye, oh that nasty pie- cripes.

Y'all know there's no lies in the tale that I told
Now come to supper, B-Ann, your squirrel's geting cold.

Next on the chompin' block: Miz Weissenberger.
Now she was a swallower, she was a gurgler.
I mean, Boise, oh Boise! You shoulda heard her!
I thought she might suffocate, thought I might hurt her.

I said, "Bitch, slow down!" I felt it behooved her,
Thought I'd have to give her the Heimlich maneuver.
But she smiled with her eyes like that bitch in the Lou-ver
And sucked all the dirt from my dong like a Hoover.

Now when Brad asked about it, his mama, she perjured
Though she'd been my cute lil' country ham-burglar.
She'd no more hold my pickle--Brad would not let us
Make our special sauce anymore. This upset us.

Then Brad noticed Mom treating him rather frosty.
Me, I just lamented the pussy he'd cost me--
No more happy meals down at the Y;
No more cherry turnovers--why, Bradley, why?

Suddenly it all became Krystal clear:
I'll have Backyard Weissenburger with my beer.
"Have it your way!" I shouted to Brad.
"I'll get my nut brokeback mountin' your dad!"

So it's Bradley's fault that his father got punked,
His august countenance corn-holed and spunked.
If her son hadn't suddenly laid down the law,
I'd a ho'd Mrs. Weiss again--I call her "maw."

But it was all right, we got it together,
Me and Brad's dad, just like Beef 'n' Cheddar.
When I bottomed out, I said, "So sorry to trouble you."
"I'm lovin' it," panted prone Mr. W.

Angus Jung wrote:

itchy mcgoo wrote:That's story as I heard it, bout her quest for girth
And the shit that went down
On the day of your birth.

Ma McGoo, she know all about "shit going down"
Chokin' back floaters always flip up her frown
But now check it, I know I was born for one reason-
Your mom on all fours, giving my crew some pleasin'
That bitch got the "itch" that I know how to scratch
But takin' one rip from that rank, caustic thatch
Makes me wish I was lis-nin to (CRAP!)Coney Hatch
'Stead of basting and tasting that toxic pea-patch
How'd the dinosaurs die? It was Miz McGoo's snatch.

Yo, Teletubby! Don't pop you no chubby
McGoo's mom be on you, no matter how stubby,
Rubbing your stump while you play with her wen,
Damn, cover your ears while she yells "Again, Again!"
Tinky Winky, he's had enough pinky stinky
Your mom turned him gay, now he's after male Slinky
Po's johnny got angry, now it hurts when he wipes
La-La's not singing after Ma McGoo's pipes
Sucked him dry, fucked his eye, oh that nasty pie- cripes.

Y'all know there's no lies in the tale that I told
Now come to supper, B-Ann, your squirrel's geting cold.

(Chicago)- Subpar internet rapper Itchy "l'il" McGoo announced her retirement today after a fierce shutdown from West Coast rival Angus Bung.

"I feel that all I had to "bring" was "brung"", McGoo stated from the back of her Airstream trailer where she watched Mrs. Jung gobble non-stop at the cock buffet, as the Department of Health hosed her down with de-lousing spray.

"I'm passing the baton back to my predecessors at Kerble Nation, where they can hopefully spread the message that Mrs. Jung is dirtier than whores who are Haitian."

Brought up on the silken rhymes of Linus Van Pelt, BER, Kerble, newcomer Tom and incognito vintage diva Bumble, "l'il" mcgoo drew most of her inspiration from observing anal whore Mrs. Jung, known in Frisco as "queen of the bung", a hard title to win in a city that prefers their fuckholes "hung".

"Her panties were the size of Wal-Mart, and her snatch was so big she could take the horse and the cart. Her stank was so rank a rose smell like a fart--really the stuff of legend," McGoo opined as Mrs. Jung accomodated 39 members in various orifices and fat rolls.

About a comeback, mcgoo stated, "Just like Mama Jung, I can never say never--though she's usually responding to a 14-dick endeavor."


###

(With 7 herbs and spices,
Mrs. Ralph's crevice he splices
Finger lickin' good vices
With his prostate there's no crisis-
And you can't beat Brett's mom's prices)

Angus Jung wrote:

(With 7 herbs and spices,
Mrs. Ralph's crevice he splices
Finger lickin' good vices
With his prostate there's no crisis-
And you can't beat Brett's mom's prices)

Only a punk-ass bitch needs visual aids.
But Angus Jung has residual AIDS
Contracted in utero, diseased at conception.
Doc would not even slap you--what a reception!
Even crack babies ostracized Angus.
Not 'cause of AIDS but the size of his wangus.
It was big as the nipple on his mama's tit--
The one he never suckled. He made the clit
On the average woman look like John Holmes.
He wasn't as well-hung as hobbits or gnomes.
Even anteaters thought his shit was tiny.
This is why Angus Jung is so whiny,
Bustin' on Brett's moms with rhymes that are crusty
More than they're crispy. Your skillz is mad rusty.
What your mama gave you, you can't pass to me--
Her original recipe: HIV.