There's a fine brown mist of liquid poop Spraying from my puckered bung all day My diet spells doom for my Fruit of the Looms As I sully, splat, and squeeze 'em on my way A grown man with a diaper full Waddling to the nearest dooley hole It aint' no fake, when you gotta jake I'll be a toilet bowl hog for that peanut log Sometimes it's a fact that I get impacted Gandhi food and Taco Hell at fault I'm feeling mighty ill as the bowel stank bilge Gravitates down to my starfish ring Hard to believe what jets from my cleave A quesy, breathing feces packin' stink In the wintertime I just let it go It warms my ass and I don't smell a thing Captain Skid Marx... oh hell it was a dud Captain Skid Marx... oh shit I drew mud Captain Skid Marx... mah boxers fulla black Captain Skid Marx... control is what I lack People always say "Man you reek!" That's OK I get more pussy than you ever will Cuz when I get a rag on a poopy sheet jag She tongues her way all over bunker hill Some proclaim I need a doc Colitus, trots or Krones disease perhaps But you know I am the happiest When I'm blowin gas and crappin my own pants Captain Skid Marx... oh hell it was a dud Captain Skid Marx... oh shit I drew mud Captain Skid Marx... mah boxers fulla black Captain Skid Marx... control is what I lack Some proclaim I need a doc Colitus, trots or Krones disease perhaps But you know I am the happiest When I'm blowin gas and crappin my own pants My skidded pants My shitty pants... Give me half a chance and I'll crap your pants