♫ This is the Captain, brace that ass for impact.
Don't doubt, motherfucker, ain't in the abstract.
Bird strikin' tiddies, with bitches that is stacked.
Black box, listen close, make your balls retract. ♫
♫ Ain't no crash, perfect forced water landing.
Back the fuck off, 'fore I piss where you standing.
I'm fucking filthy, just got the right branding.
Ride on my mustache, that pussy commanding. ♫
♫ Can't sully this Sully, King of the Controls.
Going ballistic, laying pipe 'round the poles,
She start chanting, while I'm filling her holes:
He did it, one hundred and fifty-five souls. ♫
