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entrepreneurs like you. Sign up for your $1 a month trial at Shopify.com slash setup. In February 65 in Washington, D.C., the subject of this song was born, Brett Kavanaugh was he.

No one ever dreamed to dream for justice he would be, the most disgusting womanizing drunk you'll ever see.

Everyone knows.

The story goes at Brett Brett he likes the beers

And blacking out on Guinness stout with toven and with squeat

Turning down the lights and trope and females with his fears

The way he pitches his lips looks like an an anus between his ears

Hara, hurrah, for Kavanaugh, who knew you'd get this far?

Not only did you pass the bar, you passed out at the bar.

Who would think that selling your soul and blowing Kenneth's star?

What gets you smug in tidal, that's exactly where you are.

Let's have a shot of whiskey as we sing about regret.

Forces himself on women that he says that he forgets,

and doesn't show the slightest morsel of regret.

Let's pour another shot so we don't talk about his dead.

Does anyone believe this fucking assholes on the court?

And all the while he's saying to us, come on and be a sport.

...