This is me, technically speaking.

[Verse 1]
Vanguard-ed
God ran Dan Harmon through a rap filter, and got me
Most Anxious Alive, I am top three
Plug your controller into slot B, you’re a visitor
Your fetish is when they nigga her; we are not post-race with Blacked.com
I bombed on the stage where they showcase trap and pop for hot moms
Heard I had a lane long ago; it got paved over
Flyness comparable to a layover
If I blew up, I couldn’t be fixed with your makeover
I’m conspicuously pure like a water bottle, spit like Triple H, game over
Damaged the quad core, too much porn
Not poor, but money only buys happiness, bitch, I need salvation
I’m pizza boy., but I won’t eat it if Sal made it
I’d ignore the indicator that alerts “YOU ARE NOW FADED.”
I stopped lying to myself about moderation
Got too turnt off candy, sent the moderator’s family a jizz bottle
That’ll teach the fucker for banning me
Killed the power drunk, then I took an hour luncheon
Locked an asshole in a Terror Tower dungeon
On the real, Morgred was a molester
Morbid jokes, I troll, and blokes get pestered...

[Verse 2]
I don’t listen to MF Doom, MFs die and get exhumed to get compared
Shit’s unfair; would 2Pac care if Young Thug wears a dress? ‘Cause don’t nobody else care except you
Newsflash: Now it’s two dads in the parent group; you mad?
Well, me too
‘Cause girls still think I’m some kinda creep who beats his dick to their images
Women, it’s perception, stop distorting reality
I don’t want your panties; I’d rather have your dildo batteries
My Game Boy is dying, my shame is multiplying like Bebe’s offspring
I was in class like “Could you do that again? You lost me.”
I was distracted by more interesting things...

[Verse 3]
Thinking you have head lice will humble you
Your fucking hard drive failing will humble you
I don’t need that, my ego is at a record low
My comfort’s missin’; rap doesn’t fit me
I’d likely be better off working for Dunder Mifflin

… At least there I’d make paper