I think it's time to discuss your philosophy of [bad word] use as it relates to artistic endeavors. 

Check it, yo! 
I always hit the tape with the rough road styles 
You heard the psychedelic and ya came from miles 
Keep my rhymes thick like a Guinness brew 
So you could call me black and tan when I'm a wrecking' a crew 
I'm like Bill Lee writing when he's in Tangiers 
And now I'm on a soul safari with my Beatnik peers 
Analog reel and a little distortion 
Smocking' on something' s'you could say I'm scorchin' (Smokin' on suckers... ) 
I never been the type to brag but beware 
I'll make a man burn his draft card like it was Hair 
Send ya up the river like you lookin' for Kurtz 
I got the mugwump [bad word] up in every verse 

I always hit the apple when I'm going to shoot 
So you can call me William Tell or Agent Cooper to boot 
Mr. Mojo Risin' on the case again 
So tell your mother and your sister and your sister's friends 
Like an [bad word] low on dust 
I'm bug powder itchin' and it can't be [bad word] 
Interzone trippin' and I'm off to Annexia 
I gotta get a typewriter that's ier (...tight bite of dyslexia) 
My name is Justin and that's all that's it 
And I'll be spittin' rhymes wicked like it ain't for this [bad word] 
Houses of the Holy like Jimmy Page 
But the song remains the same so I'm stuck in a rage 
Just like Jane when she's going to Spain 
I think I'm going away tomorrow, just a fool in the rain 
Light up the candles and bless the room 
I'm paranoid, snow blind, just a black meat fool 

Bug powder dust an' mugwump [bad word]  
And the wild [bad word]  'round Interzone trippin' 
Letter to control about the Big Brother (Led into control) (Learning to control) (Lenin to control) 
Try like hard to not blow my cover 

Never been a fake and I'm never phony 
I got more flavour than the packet in macaroni 
Rock drippin' from my every vowel 
I've got the soul of the sixties like Ginsberg's Howl 
Shootin' mad ball and I'm always jukin' 
Take you to the hole and I'm surely hoopin' 
Top of the pops like the Lulu's show 
I'll take a walk on Abbey Road with my shoes unsoled (..shoes off, so) (...shoes of soul) 
I got a splinter though, [bad word]  you know man it hurt 
I got a Vegemite sandwich from Men at Work 
I keep minds in line, but time sublimes, 
So when you search you find something like a gold mine 
psychadelic meanderings in the poem 
I got a patter, patter anyplace that I roam 
Waiting for the sun on a Spanish caravan 
Solar eclipse and I'm feeling like starin' man 

Who's that man in the windowpane 
Got somethin' on his tongue and it's startin' to stain 
Sho' nuff equip so [bad word] n'get down 
Step up on my ladder and you'll get beat down 
Hash bar style so I'm singin' day glow 
Wakin' up the dead like Serpent and the Rainbow 
Jeff Spicoli roll me another hay 
The Fish that Saved Pittsburgh with Dr. J 
Shockin' your [bad word] like a faulty vibrator 
Hear me now, but you'll probably get the vibe later 
Who knows where the wicked wind blows 
Que sera sera just leave it alone 
Great Space Coaster toast up the town 
Making' midgets with my man Dr. Shrinker 
Pass the hookah, throw down the pillows 
Cloth on the ceiling, blow rings that billow 
Kick off the shoes and relax your feet 
Now roll up your sleeves for this lyrical treat 

I think it's time for you boys to share my last taste of the [bad word] black meat; the flesh of the giant, aquatic, Brazilian centipede.