[imagine a djembe beat throughout]
Who was the first to call it out?
Who was the first to be in doubt?
Caught by the wicked scent of your mouth,
struck by an aroma from the south.
Your words dressed up in lies,
each turn in your story a beggar of deep sighs.
And you, you dug your feet more firmly in the muck,
and we, we let you, we let you get stuck.
How long, oh how long can this go on?
Just admit it, dude, you stole the Grey Poupon.