| I’m tasked with your assassination
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| But I don’t like confrontation
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| I would much prefer a quiet hit & run
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| But at combat I am cruddy
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| and stabbing gets too bloody
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| and it isn’t sportsmanlike to use a gun
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| Swords are really not my style
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| Poison capsules take a while.
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| Though the interaction’s what I mostly dread
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| But when my hand is at the ready
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| and my arm is strong and steady
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| I can chop you in the ass until you’re dead
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| And I’m like CHOP! |
| CHOP!
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| and the henchmen hit the floor
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| when I go CHOP! |
| CHOP!
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| They won’t be henching anymore
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| It doesn’t look the best
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| But it moves me on my quest
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| Don’t act like you’re not impressed
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| You’re under orders, and I get that
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| but I’m not so great at chit chat
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| It’s not personal, you’re stationed in my way
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| I guess I could try to seduce you
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| But that isn’t what I’m used to
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| And sexy spies are kind of a cliché
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| I’m not troubled by the killing
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| But I find I’m less than willing
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| To avail myself of anybody’s gaze
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| I’m not a brute, I’m not a terrorist
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| I’m just easily embarrassed
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| And gunfire only adds to my malaise
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| So I go CHOP CHOP
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| and the bad guys hit the ground
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| when I go CHOP CHOP
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| And they make the weirdest sound
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| One part yodel, two parts scream
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| Yet your partner doesn’t seem
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| To notice that you took one for the team
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| So am all CHOP CHOP
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| They can’t see me when I squat
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| So I go CHOP CHOP
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| Might sound sexy, but it’s not
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| There’s no technique or grace
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| When I’m chopping your third base
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| I just don’t want to look you in the face
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| So I go CHOP CHOP
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| Then am like CHOP CHOP
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| It isn’t so unkind it’s just what I’ve been assigned
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| It’s a job I can’t really get behind. |