Mephisto:

Hit this, Bitch… I mean, Your Honor.
Watch your monkeys dance,
when I pull their strings and dangly bits
and offer them a chance.

At what? Who cares?
It hardly matters.
Offer one a crown.
Some will fight and some will follow,
but all are going down.

Yahweh:

Bitch?, your best?
You never were creative,
but I guess that I’m to blame.
‘Mephisto’, though’s a disappointment,
You’ve shortened up your name.

A ganja conch, how quaint. Oh blimey,
have you got a light?
Of course you do,
what was I thinking?
Damn, dis stuff is tight.

Mephisto:

Man, Oh Man, what are you saying?
Gimme back that shit.
I had them in your little garden—
She for apples, he for tits.

I’ve LoL’d throughout the ages,
delighted in their wars.
Helen launched a thousand ships,
but I invented whores.

Yahweh:

Dude, pass that back.
I’ll make confession—
One you need to hear.
Those monkeys are your own obsession.
I’ve moved on and
I don’t care.