Axl Rose

Doctor Scott, what you up to? Not a lot
Just chattin' an actress up while I juggle molten rock
And ash a cigar, skatin' backwards on crackin' ice
I'll woo your girl and tap her ass twice like ASDA price
Then go AWOL like Léon Gaultier
Cut you off when you speak and say peace and stroll away
I take the piss, that's why I'm number one
I shower with me sunnies on
Ishmael Butler cool
In a spotlight on a wooden stool at 20 below freezin' sag
Un-fuck-wit-able steez, I don't need to brag
But I will coz I'm ill...
Outta control, I crack a can of the jole
And pour soul for the last of the doled, but, ugh
I'm not as common as I look
If this was '92, I'd have fucked Madonna for the book
Whatever pays, I'm sayin' dumb shit in clever ways
I'm goin' through a dopest ever phase
Scruffy unshaven steez rivaling Che
Blah Jar bucket with the peak like a beret, aye
Turn that facey app off
And watch me Axl Rose hair blow in the wind when I take me hat off
Stood against the back cloth
I'll write a ho's number on an original portrait of Van Gough
And never ring 'er, then neck her sister on Jerry Springer
And watch the show on tele and give meself a finger
Drunk in a white wifebeater slumped
I eat a rump steak and take a blunt to the face
Like "Wait, it wasn't me", why? I've never been high
And only drink on days endin' in Y, like "Hiii"
Catch me outside The Blah Mansion in a storm
In shorts and t-shirt, mowin' the lawn in lizard form