Got my tat in their mouths, cause they lovin’ the M
My foie gras lovin’ got em throwing the trim
The nonstop cash, pimp cup filled to the brim
Spreadin honey’s like I’m magic, pointin “SIM SALA BIM!!!”

T-Rees on the mike
And the game is so like
A mad panther on the prowl
Cougars ready to strike

In the club he throwin’ dollars
Ladies ready to holla
Smackin chunky asses
From Lawrence to Walla Walla

American dreamboat
Slam a bitch like Ricky Steamboat
If you lucky girl he give you
That Todd Reesing cream-coat

Got that flag jacket pimpin’
Cause he reppin’ his nation
Got that puppy in his hands
Cause he like the sensation

If you a bitch, don’t put T-Rees in on your ballot
If you a bitch, line up an’ toss the Marky’s salad
If you a bitch, then you hatin’ on this KU pimpin’
Your game limp and wavy, like you been through some crimpin’

Heisman flossin’, KU glossin’, we about the Heisman
T-Rees gonna win it in front of your eyes, man
Snatch your chain and your wallet, straight takin’ your ice man
Leave you dazed and retarded like your name was Joe Theismann

Snap a leg if you thinkin
The M gone be drinkin’
Heisman Kool-Aid wif no T-Rees
Be a Heisman that stinkin’

And the Jayhawks ain’t droppin’
Ain’t the ones to retire
Our game will never drop
Like a pass to Kerry Meier–WHAAAAAT!!!!

Yeah, I see you.

Let’s make it rain on this lawyaz, T-Rees.

I see you readin’ the Economist, T-Rees. Respect to the knowledge. Bagehot is in the building! GIVE IT UP FOR MOTHERFUCKING BAGEHOT.

Still hungry Big 12. I’m bringin’ the wetnaps this team, cause THE M STAYS CLEAN.

They be eatin’ popcorn shrimp on Marky’s dime
Pampers money on the plate when it’s Outback time
Should be Marky poppin’ bottles in them DJ booths
Stead the bitches with my money feed they batter tooths

Don’t have to have a pussy, though, to be the type
Who keeps a man from his biscuits
Keeps the foie gras off his triscuits
With the child support, she got you from 18 to life

Tried to be wife, but couldn’t stay away from the dick
Marky M’s heart broke over that ass so thick
Came home, thought you was the Cinderella for my slipper
Came home, found you on a dude’s pole like you was a stripper

Marky M straight tell you that bitch was frosty
Hurt his heart so bad had to get him a Frosty
Yeah hurt his heart so bad had to get him two Frosties
Hurt his heart so bad put his head under the Frosty

Machine, the dream, you know it was gone
But you can’t judge women by the ones that was wrong
And you gotta treat a lady like lady, BB
Gotta stay game tight with a girl like E-die

She a down bitch for them buffet times
She a down bitch when you runnin’ out a them rhymes
Keep you swimming and brimming in the memos and post-its
You never have to write email, you know she gone ghost it

Marky M like your style, you know that he do
From the Payless flats to the way you stay true
How bout Marky M roll out the cheddar
How bout Marky M havin’ you write the goodbye letter

To the snow, the hoes, the weakass dough
Of this life that you livin, baby come to the show
Keep you warm and naked on my aqua-chateau
Strictly nude or bikini, but respectfully so

Take a memo, drink some Cris, eat some bacon
This ain’t no fakin’
Marky M know you be achin
For wavin’ wheat that bring the cows
Where there’s cows there be maids
With braids
And them Escalades
Made off the cheddar them cow titties done made.

Think about: live fat with the Marky M
Or spend your chump days with your chumpass friend
I be sitting club level waitin’ on yo’ call
Textin’ boricuas in mi espanol

Bistec y tetas, es the fuckin’ mejor
Todd Reesing never lie, know he mannin’ the door
Keep the nacho fountain hot, he know what it for
Dippin titties in the queso, hater know the score–WHAAAATT?

HOLLA!!!

YEAAAHHH, straight love for the secretarial thickness. My ladies with some frost on they pumpkins, much love.

Scheisty bootleggers I see ya. ‘Bout to shove half a hamhock up that ass if you bootleg my shit again.

Kerry Meier, I see you. Keep the ’stache pimpin, it’s like velcro to keep you pussylocked. Ladies hit him up on his cell: 785-555-2915

Yeah, I know it’s nasty. You love it.

Hit me up on the web: gravytrainsnthangs.com. Honeydips, drop a pic if ya sick or thick.

PEAS.

Die hard on them streets
Caught up in the game
Too big for your pants
Too big for your frame

Fuck you bitch and clique you claim
Jayhawk ’till we die, cause we feel no shame
Keep it bouncin’ in the wheatfields tractor-style
Got you Pantera’d cause we—

[sample: FUCKING HOS-TIIIIIIIIIIILE!!!] (echoes)

Tell Chase Daniel it was nice to meet ya
Now I’d like seven orders of breadsticks to go with my pizzas
Tell him that it was oh so nice to defeat ya
And show you how we do like it’s Srebenica

Get a fat contract
From your bitch-ass peeps
You call that real cash?
You call that real cheese?

Velvet fog take you money
And he tip the bartender
Order fifty gallons of that ‘yak
And return it to sender

I make that much in a week
Growin’ bread in my folds
Marky M got ciabatta
Got them swiss cake rolls

Enough to feed the needy
You bet you coochie, sweety
Have a feast off my ass
Like we doin’ naked sushi

Hit the hot tub rollin, yeah we fillin it up
Hit that hot tub chillin’ cause we tippin’ it up
Get them M paws workin in them fat D-cupz
Cause when the kitty comes meowin’ Marky’s feedin’ it up

Have the whole thing sloshin’
Like we on Splash Mountain
Got the M Pipe spurtin’
Like the Trevi fountain

If you into doing cake
Then I got the red velvet
If you into gettin’ head
Got it like I’m Dark Helmet

Bitchmade Pinkel, you crew keep it so weak
Got Jayhawk buried nine inches deep
Got my man Kerry Meier hauntin’ your sleep
Pimped you out on the corner and we pimped you cheap

Yeah we stuck in this sunroof
Been stuck for three days
Not sweatin regrettin,
Still got that purple haze

Hit the drive thru like a pimp do
Apply the SPF so the M don’t get barbecued

You think that Mizzou’s got you on that gravy train
Fuck that, Marky M’s got that gravy plane
He got gravy fleet a yachts with them gravy names
Got the gravy boat bouncin’ in this gravy game

GRAVY BOMBS!

WHAAAAAT!!!!!

YEAAAAAHHHHH, Marky M on this shit.

Rock Chalk, bitch. Take your contract and wipe yo ass with it, Pinkel.

Can’t spell Don Killuminati without KU.

Cinnabon, I see you. Keep it frosty.

Ron Prince, call a lawya! I got some recruiting letters needs some stamps ha HA!

We Marky M, hittin’ em up. Gravy bombs to the haters.

What!

What!

What!

BREAK YO’ SELF FOOL it’s the Velvet Fog
Pissin’ on them chump haterz like a crazy dog
Like the hustlaz in the streets who be makin’ it snow
Phil Fulmer, Marky M, yo we makin’ the show

Drop them tightass pants and them Atkins fools
My belly’s not a gut, it’s a shed for my tool
Get the forklift out and you get it quick
Cause lo-carb bitches gots to suck this dick

And if they wanna get the meat you gotta move some pounds
Marky M and fat boys straight keepin’ it round
You can fire Fat Boyz either righty or lefty
But we keep our buffets and buyouts hefty

T. Stutz, tell them lawyaz what it’s bout.

Tom Amstutz: REEEEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIXXXXXXX!!!! I’m fat, and I’m resigning, too.

T-Stutz:

Big pants
Big dance
Big rangs
Big chance

To let these bitches know Fat Boyz don’t stay down
Might tip us over
Might wreck the Rover
Might put us in a diabetic coma
With a cherry turnover

But one thing you gotta know
They way we makin’ this dough
We literally make dough
No, seriously. I was paid in cookie dough.

BACK TO THAAAA TRAAAAAAAACK!!!!!!!!!!!!

Marky M:

Fat Boyz in the building tonight
Turn the AC on, cause we melting this ice
You don’t even gotta bring your jacket out
Cause we keepin’ it hot like it’s the dirty souf

Fat Phil sittin on his desk with hands
On his face cause he just got tha boot from the man
So sad that he paid for gettin’ the can
So sad that he got a problem with his wackass glands

It’s ain’t the hand you got,
It’s the playa,
And if we talking games
You can call me the mayor

McCheese, if you please
And you down on you knees
Sucka MCs blowin’
like a tropical breeze

Fat Boy, keep them chins high
Eyes to the sky
Every playa gotta bleed
For them bacon pies

Every player gotta live
three lifes fore he die
Every player gotta sample
That he dyin’ to try–WHAT!!!

[outro]

And for Marky M…

That sample is cherry almond bark from Trader Joe’s!

THAT SHIT IS UNBELIEVABLE!!!

Keep it greasy, Phil. Pimp a pimp for life.

BRING IT BY THE POUND AND THEY CAN’T BRING YOU DOWN!!!

Yeest Roll Produktions, I see you…

WE OUT

[/outro]

And it’s one, two, three and to the four!
Fuck your brick wall, Marky M don’t need the door.

Bustin em down like I got the Kool-Aid
Don’t need the sunblock cause I make my own shade

If ya act real nice then I’ll bring back the sun
If not, keep you in the dark like my name was Jame Gumb

Marky M’s here to show you how to stack the dough
Marky M’s bout to show you how to freak the flow

See you rockin’ sissy silk on them ND shades
Your shit is old and wack like a cheap tight fade

Get the keys to the Honda but you think it’s a Bentley
Leavin’ weakass game like your name was Dirk Gently

You want confessions Charlie then I’ll give you mine
I start my day at fresh and fly past nine
I tip the scales at like 409
The sun hates on me ’cause of the way I shine

You bring your crew, Todd Reesing gonna stretch him out
He’s 5′4″ but his jimmy like a waterspout
My whole crew steal your girls make your boys pout
Take ‘em backstage and bang their damn weaves out

Think about it–fuck ‘em, let em pray
Down here the girls fuck a wide body every day
Down here this wide body’s workin’ gettin’ em laid
And when they ass walk the streets this wide body get paid

YEAAAAHHHH!!!!

You wanna understand hip-hop, Charlie? STREET ACROBATS, LAWYA.

Get paid, get laid, make shade.

Marky M done ragged this bitch to the timbers.

We out.