Lyrics The Mr. Wrong Show - Mr. Wrong

The Mr. Wrong Show

Mr. Wrong is for the children
(Once again Mr. Wrong was wrong)
Yeah, yo
Welcome to The Mr. Wrong Show
Not for preppy kids
There will be no romance or moral messages
Just a plot of endless twists
And offensive scripts
On some Clockwork Orange meets Tom & Jerry shit
The theme music will be provided by me, stupid
And if RZA lets me down I’ll probably make the beat to it
Each week there’ll be a special death to Diddy section
Where the audience get to select a different weapon
In which to dint his head in with
No guns allowed
The phone-in slogan is vote and make your mother proud
Now that’s a fucking pound well spent
Since I’m not a selfish guy
The cash will be shared between myself and I
With some kept aside for the whole gang to eat
And lawsuit against The Mr. Wrong Show charity
Enough of that though, the main character’s an arsehole
Who’s pissed off, let’s say 'cause the dough in his bank’s low
And thus he becomes belligerent
And takes revenge on anyone who isn’t him
Children sit and grin
Watching their favourite hero murdering innocents
While simultaneously hitting spliffs and sipping gin
Now he would contemplate
Before force-feeding folks frying pans
And cooking fucking eggs on their face
Uphold a code of violence
Responsible for anyone you see with a head shaped like a household appliance
Toasters, irons, rusted woks
Rocked third-degree burn marks for a second
And then he shrugged them off
More creative than slicing necks with a knife
The Mr. Wrong Show, teaching your children vital lessons in life
Find our hero drinking cans of lager
Whilst handing beat-downs to the likes of Aaron Carter and Hanson
A bizarre and enchanted ride of ultra-violence
In one episode, we hold Hanna-Barbera for ransom
So don’t be worried if you interrupt the kids
Whilst watching the show and find 'em crying
Those are tears of excitement
'Cause Mr. Wrong pulled his mask off
Slapped Shaggy up and put Scooby-Doo down for tryna bite him
Not so meddling now
New methods of violence
Killing thousands when we’re only testing them out
Answering swinging handbags with rocket launchers
Doors appear from nowhere and cops have got him cornered
Anything goes, unrepentable havoc
Pushing sacrificial lambs off the edge of the planet
Walk off the side of the screen, clean
Appear on the other, looking menacing
Blood smeared on the jumper, he’s pulling Freddy in
(The Mr. Wrong Show will be a positive, educational, enlightening experience)
Now and then the blood-thirst quenches
For arse watching
A fucking Cinderella in a glass coffin, buried alive
But seemed fine
Take another breath or you die
Accused of hogging screen-time
Son the scene’s mine, any random passers-by
Become the unloving owners of shattered spines
Happy crimes, The Mr. Wrong Show
Tune in, coming soon kids