Hunts walks warily down the street, with his pants pulled way down low.
Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet, witticisms ready to go.
Are you ready, are you ready for this? Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Out of the doorway the cynicisms rip, to the sound of the beat.
BUMP BUMP BUMP, badump bump bump baBUMP.
Another one bites the Hunts.
