LYRICS: Hello, Pandora fans I'd like to show my awesome plans Hold on tight to your organs; glands we're riding home to the Borderlands When I hear that Gearbox are releasing a sequel, my teardrops are uncontrollable I'm inconsolable, but fear not they're tears of joy, like me as a boy after christmas eve when I see a box I open it up and say "whoa" at the view it's only overflowing with loot Locking and loading, I know what to do now who am I going to shoot? You, you're a pitiful prick so I'm ripping you up with a critical hit Funds improve my guns and loot I'll use it if it'll fit If it moves I'll shoot it, you tit I'm a Buzzard, you're a blue tit I fly in the sky and it's fatal foes are lying disabled a hole in their face; I'm reminded of bagels I'm ever so slightly unstable Me? I'm hardly an angel Leave that to the Guardian Angel This is the eighties, I'm Arnie and painfully making your army unfaithful Health and safety; watch your head Heavy metal; lots of lead but before I drop you dead I'll shred you up like Dr. Zed I said "Zed, let him in" Led Zeppelin never played on David Letterman Though that may be irrelevant nevertheless it's a hell of method of making it evident Dan is the cleverest rapper to ever use gaming in tracks setting a precedent that wouldn't ever be bettered til weapons are made into raps Eighty seven bazillion guns a similar number of brilliant puns turn that to cash, gimme the funds back to back with my militant chums I'm blasting stacks of straps at prats it's action packed ridiculous fun If kills were calories, that'd be fattening Fragging a skag and I'm bagging and tagging him having you lagging and manically panicking Man, is it actually happening? Well, I'm an assassin assassining you so if that is a fact then it has to be true You're chatting Claptrap so I should grab your nadsack and yank it so your nads are dropping like the stock is on the NASDAQ Asshat, don't answer back Who the fack is Handsome Jack? You want how many grams of that? I'll grind you like my ganja sack I will be having you crying in agony violently cracking your violin; Paganini meeny miny mo More money, less problems The bigger the gun, the less nonsense I'm less Mark Ronson, more Charles Bronson or a vault Hunter S. Thompson.