| An open letter to the fat, arrogants, anti-charismatic, national embarrassment
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| known as President John Adams
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| Shit!
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| The man’s irrational. |
| He claims that I’m in league
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| With Britain in some vast international intrigue
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| Trick, please!
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| You wouldn’t know what I’m doin'
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| You’re always goin' berserk
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| But you never show up to work
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| Give my regards to Abigail
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| Next time you write about my lack of moral compass
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| At least I do my job up in this rumpus
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| Ooh…
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| The line is behind me, I crossed it again
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| While the president lost it again
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| Aw, such a rough life
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| Better run, tell your wife
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| «Yo, the boss is in Boston again»
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| Let me ask you a question. |
| Who sits
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| At your desk when you’re in Massachusetts?
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| They were calling you a dick back in '76
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| And you really haven’t done anything new since
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| You’re a nuisance with no sense
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| You would die of irrelevance
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| Go ahead, you aspire to my level
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| You inspire to malevolence
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| Say hi to the Jeffersons!
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| And the spies all around me
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| Maybe they can confirm
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| I don’t care if I kill my career with this letter
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| I’m confining you to one term
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| Sit down, John, you fat motherfucker!
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| Cool |