Beat: “Street Knowledge” by BadBadNotGood & Ghostface Killah
Mrs. Livingston, never had a real Thanksgiving
Now’s her chance to make amends for all the time she spent alone
They’re coming soon; she’s prepared a real turkey dinner
With green beans, and stuffing too, and pumpkin pie that’ll make you cry
The tables set, they all walk in nd take a seat
The smell whiffs up and hits their noses
They adjust their clothes and strike their poses
Photobombed with great aplomb
Santa standin’ right there in the middle Breaks the calm like a bad sitcom
With the rimshot as a paradiddle
A joke too far
Pushin’ holidays aside like a bumper car He’s come to soon
Boots still smellin’ from the arctic char
Mrs. Livingston runs to the next room and grabs a gun
Sets the sight, trigger pulled, Santa stumbles to the ground
They gather ‘round, watch as the light flees his eyes
Santa’s dead, Thanksgiving saved, let’s break some bread
Now let’s cut to, the North Poll factory where elves slave away
News is comin’, Santa’s done, and freedom’s comin’
[Verse 3: Pumpernickel the Elf]
One of many,
Working the line, makin’ penny’s on the dollar,
Food for thought ’cause there’s none in my belly.
Give a holler to my kids down the line
Installin’ arms on some bitch ass dolls
For some fat fuck to haul to the greedy
Get speedy, whips crack at the sound of day dreamin’,
And if your eyes drift around schemin’,
They’ll rip off your toes and leave you bleedin’,
Screamin’, put you in a chair and keep precedin’.
Now your limping with a candy cane,
What a shame, fuckin’ with that pity game.
Everyday, the same shade of grey.
From the mouth of babes, stealing food,
Rippin’ down walls of my gingerbread house just to eat ‘em
But shits so cold it’s gotta thaw.
My mood is like Mouseman.
Notes from the Underground, but less profound.
Writing love letters to the grim reaper
He’s our gatekeeper
Bitch hit me the sickle, shit’ll barely even tickle
[Outro: Elf Reporter & Various Other Elves]
This just in, Santa has just been killed