Backup

He’s rich, running like Forest Gump

His last name rhymes with chump

He has a way of getting over the hump

If he were a roast he would be the rump

He looks like a man, built like a lump

His face is pasty like thefilling in an Oreo

His lips are liken to a Cheerio actually

To me it looks like, oh my it’s bootie hole

He talks a lot of chit full of a lot of chat

Insane ideologies without no apologies

That he really means, he does not one bit

Get this, he’s running for president of

These United States, he stirs up rowdy

Crowds of lunatics with his Jim Crow politics

I hope and pray, Heaven open up its gates

Coz, it’s the only place we’ll be safe  

It's so evident if he makes it in, with a win, it's back to Berlin