[Lyric] Im In The Fifties Alternate Version (Mr. Barber)

[Intro: Mr. Barber]
Are you joking?
No

[Hook: Mr. Barber]
I'm in the fifties and we're racist and I hate black people, yes I do, man
Figure It Out, that is a song by a black man and it is coming out today

[Bridge: Mr. Barber]
I went to Seaworld, nipped me in the ass
I want to become age 50 like the label Trash
I'm talking about music, I fucking hate
Who are you to shake? Yeah, shake weight, uh

[Verse 1: Mr. Barber]
I'm feeling great, I'm feeling great everyday
Sleep great every night through the day
Give me every mount of supply of crayfish you can give me
When I'm on the edge, I'm like a trim piece
I don't brush the shit, glowing like Ben's teeth
Within the sun, within this son
Within his fifth son, I'm in the fifties
Everything around me is growing like a big tree
The hidden areas stench like Parmesan (say thank you)
College cost is less than, like, a mazeltov
I wanna ball up my fist and walk my dog
Cowards shit and ball and bawl and it's hot like sauce
Been behind more lines than a coke addict
When I go outside I confuse snow for static
I don't give any single goddamn pissing fuck
Give me bucks and go away dumb wack bitch
[Hook: Mr. Barber]
I'm in the fifties and we're racist and I hate black people, yes I do, man
I demand currency for my problems and you better buy me coffee next

[Bridge: Mr. Barber & cletus]
Yeah I'm a security camera, watching you get adopted
Two hands, both of which are black, tick-tock on the clock yeah
I've had mental illness for some time now
PTSD, Bipolarism, Alopecia, AIDS, Covid-19, Colonel Sanders, and the flu
You dumb whore, which of which is true?
One for all fourteen, all these fourteen people get screwed
Screwing it in there, remove my shin hair and then bear the emotional trauma of cletus

[Verse 2: cletus]
I'm in the fifties, and- and- and
We're racist, and- and-
I'm in the fifties, and- and- and
We're racist, and- and-
I'm in the fifties, and- and- and
We're racist, and- and-
I'm in the fifties, and- and- and
We're racist, yeah, yeah, yeah
I'm racist
I like to race with people with my blankets, yeah
I give blank plates to people in Africa because they don't deserve the meal
I hit 'em with my feel
I hit 'em with a field of cornrows
I give a shit about your daughter 'cause she died
I wanna fly around the universe at night
I wanna shoot you and I want you to die
Mail, mail, mail, mail, mail, mail
[Hook: Mr. Barber]
I'm in the fifties and we're racist and I hate black people, yes I do, man
Where has my dog gone? I'm not sure, I will kill him if it's the last thing I do