The Mr. Wrong Show - Mr. Wrong

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