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You're a Mean One, Mr.T (Bone)

You're a mean one, Mr.T (Bone)
You really are a heel.
Your goatee's as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as a Peel (unger).
Mr. T (Bone)!

You're a rotten Garlic
With a greasy black peel.

You're a monster, Mr. T (Bone).
That horn you had was really weird
You're all jacked up on Gro-gain
In your brain might be a mole. (Brainmole STILL is win)
Mr. T (Bone).

I wouldn't touch you with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot peelunger pole.

You're a vile one, Mr. T (Bone).
You have timmycites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of an angry garden gnome .
Mr. T (Bone)

Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take on the angry gnome.

You're a foul one, Mr. T (Bone).
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your hair is full of gunk.
Mr. T (Bone)

The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: "Jeepers! Yeep! Gosh!"

You're a rotter, Mr.T (Bone).
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead Garlic splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. T (Bone)

You were shoved in a barrel overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
G Corp rubbish imaginable,
It mangled your brain up
in tangled up knots

You nauseate me, Mr. T (Bone)
With a nauseous super-naus.
You drive Dr.Singh crazy
making her a very tough boss.
Mr. T (Bone)

You're a three decker sauerkraut and mushroom cannon sandwich
With arsenic sauce.