The President

The President

The In February 65 in Washington, D.C., the subject of this song was born, but Kavanaugh was he.

No one ever dreamed a dream for just as he would be, the most disgusting disgusting womanizing drunk you'll ever see

everyone knows a story goes a fret he likes the beers and black it out on ginnis scout with tomen and with speed

turning down the lights and thrope and females with his fears the way he pitches his lips looks like an anus between his ears

hurrah hurrah for cavana 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 blow in kenneth's star would get you smug in title

that's exactly where you are

let's have a shot of whiskey as we sing about whole bread forces himself on women that he says that

he forgets and doesn't show the slightest morsal 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.

I went to Yale, I'm white and nail. Your ship has come to port.

Take off your shirt, hike up your skirt and show me your support. Hurrah, hurrah for Kathana, you filthy fucking prick.

The way you're treating women really makes me fucking sick.

I hope with Bader Ginsburg goes and hits you with a stick,

gets you with an upper cut and kicks you in a dick.

Now let's curse the GOP and pass gets you with an uppercut and kits ya in a dig.

Now let's curse the GOP and pass the pints around. They back a man who's from a plan that holds a woman down

because they don't really like you if you're female or you're round.

And if you're poured a piss on you and pray that you will drown.

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