Lyrics

[Verse]
Yo, Klaus in the house, tail waggin’ like a fiend,
But the floor’s his canvas, Picasso of the obscene.
Skid marks trailin’, a brown streak parade,
Rug’s his playground, no shame displayed.

He’s the funk factory, smellin’ rank in the breeze,
Air so thick, could cut it with cheese.
Shittin’ like a rebel, no leash on his crimes,
Landmines everywhere, a field of grime.

[Chorus]
Klaus, Klaus, terror on four paws,
Wipin’ his ass with no regard for laws.
He stinks, he reeks, yeah, Klaus is the boss,
Livin’ his life, leavin’ us at a loss.

[Verse 2]
Sofa got baptized, carpet met its fate,
Bathroom’s foreign, Klaus don’t delegate.
Pee Picasso, poop Van Gogh,
Every corner of the crib’s his personal show.

Neighbors hold their breath when Klaus walks by,
Flies form a halo, the stench won’t lie.
He’s the tyrant of turds, the prince of the pong,
A foul-mouthed legend in a shit-stained song.

[Bridge]
You call him man’s best friend, I call him my curse,
Every whiff of his presence, I’m writin’ a verse.
Scrubbin’ floors, lightin’ candles in vain,
Klaus in the room, it’s a hurricane of pain.