An open letter to the fat, arrogant, anti-charismatic, national embarrassment known as President John Adams
[Verse 1: Watsky]
The man's irrational. He claims that I'm in league
With Britain in some vast international intrigue
You wouldn't know what I'm doin'
You're always goin' berserk
But you never show up to work
Give my regards to Abigail
Next time you write about my lack of moral compass
At least I do my job up in this rumpus
The line is behind me, I crossed it again
While the president lost it again
Aw, such a rough life
Better run, tell your wife
"Yo, the boss is in Boston again"
Let me ask you a question. Who sits
At your desk when you're in Massachusetts?
They were calling you a dick back in '76
And you really haven't done anything new since
You nuisance with no sense
You would die of irrelevance
Go ahead, you aspire to my level
You aspire to malevolence
Say hi to the Jeffersons!
And the spies all around me
Maybe they can confirm
I don't care if I kill my career with this letter
I'm confining you to one term
Sit down, John, you fat motherfucker!