Bully! A challenge! I love competition
Now where would I mount the stuffed head of a Winston
I'm into fitness, digging ditches through an isthmus
Rough ridin' down to Cuba like "What's up, Bitches?!"
I keep my rhymes pure, like my food and drugs
I'm an American stud, and you're the British Elmer Fudd
I mean, for Christ's sake! Look at that mug
At least grow a spruce mustache and cover part of it up
And let's face it, you're not all that great
You tossed away lives in Gallipoli
Like they were scraps off your plate
Your whole miserable country is the size of one state
I could see my way through running that without donning my Pince-nez
Don't go toe to toe with me, you bloated drunk old man
Why don't you Do-Si-Do on over to a 12 step program
I'll bust a trust fund lush with my American muscles
So walk softly over here and give my big stick a suckles
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