Lyrics for bast*rd in a Basket by Nacho Picasso :
I’m just a bast*rd from a basket
A f*cking douchebag that deserves to get his ass kicked
But ain’t no one gonna do it, though, so ain’t no sense in asking
And f*ck the passion, I’m bustin’ in a napkin

[Verse 1]
I’m snappin’ like Bob Backlund, I’m Cactus Jack when
Ric Flair used to wear the satin, what’s happenin’?
Is Tina Turner yappin’? Cause this beat is slappin’
I come from the streets like Aladdin
Bumping R Kelly while I pee on princess Jasmine
My b*tches play the part, but I refuse to quit the castin’
My chick do bayer asprin, she usually toot the Aspen
She used to be in pageants, but now she just imagines
Extortion? I see no profits here
Try to press me for a portion, drive your Porsche off the pier
Me and Heather Locklear, we get high as Rocketeers
Took a shot of angel tears, I yell “Cheers!” to all my fears


[Verse 2]
Miss Mary Jane was quite brittle
Her husband dead, so that mean I’m smoking white widow
I’m blowing dope, eyes low with a slight sniffle
I got a heavy heart, so I keep a light pistol
f*ck your mom in the ass fast, I might Bristol
Palin, I’m impaling anyone who’s slavin’
If you’re rainin’ and I’m hailin’ I’m inhaling all your hatred
I’m blinded by the light, and I’m plugged into the Matrix
I’m only on the dealers, I throw b*tches off the A-list
My momma half white and they tell me I’m a racist?
They can’t stand the heat like Skip Bayless, I’m famous
I’m in the winner’s bracket and your b*tch is needing braces
Your new pus*y? My old poon
If you’re fly then I guess I’m Jeff Goldbloom
Pop so many pills, my brain look like tofu
I’mma die like that old b*tch in Soul Food