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operadical - markella lyrics

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i had enough, i can’t pretend
i’m tired – of bein’ an anachronism
i don’t care if my words offend
the world needs more iconoclasm
i’m gonna show them somethin’ new
all the stupid little girls and their auto tune-

operadical! operadical! operadical! operadical!

boregasm! give the gate!
fifty-one, fifty! don’t mess with me! –
i’m comin’ out! no more, 404
transcendental! don’t mess with me! –

no surprises when she verbalizes
no compromises when she victimizes
no n-bel prizes when she scandalizes
no one realizes when she hypnotizes
cuts down to sizes vanilla ices
satirizes fool’s paradises
antagonizes apostatizes
symbolizes goddess isis when she vocalizes

don’t wanna be a tight -ss, white-bread opera diva
don’t put me in a box, cause i do everything.
the dime-a-dozen southern california girls.
they think they’re singin’ ’til they hear this.

another routine seventeen,
made by the machine with a pristine limousine
another child’s play, blase,
display for claude monet’s ashtray

ain’t no inbetween, no golden mean,
just yo’ -ss in the guillotine
no gourmet, foreplay, mezzo-forte
shadow play, just what markella say

pebbles talk like this, sko
so much to say, nothin’ to know
can’t drop science on da 40-watt bimho
this voice goin’ somewhere over the rainbow

operadical! operadical! operadical! operadical!

the flavor of the month with her hundred-word vocabulary
i’m a polylingual b-tch who doesn’t like the virgin mary
here’s your little octave voice. sorry, trif, but i got 3!

ownage! ownage! ownage!

operadical! operadical! operadical! operadical!

schizo, too many markellas
need a check up from the neck up. don’t mess with me! –
prim and proper candy greek girl
don’t be fooled, i’m runnin’ drag.
so bad-ssical. don’t mess with me! –

mean lean on-screen beauty queen
shining cosmic ray on a holy day
she think yo’ vending machine cuisine
ok april fool buffet entree
h-llene on too much time machine caffeine
she say what she mean, she mean what she say
intervene saw your obscene gene in the latrine
ricochet, airplay tina fey word spray

created by the suits, basic b-flat chippie
amer’can idol -ssiotic pop slag bubblegum

bet you don’t know what anthropologetic is
brain bleach in’, streamin’ all your bad juju
think you’re so salty, so fly, pretty h
just sayin’ hooch-hooch, not!

runnin’ with the world with chronic moutharrhea
bad addi-paddi fast-food bogus breezy aerospew

blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
irrelephant, booty chatter, insignificant
blah, blah, blah, blah, blah
bob’s your uncle, and then i found five dollars

ain’t no more fascinating lady-in-waiting to the nauseating aggravating
she took a long–ss bad -ssical sabbatical and got madical, badical, operadical
ain’t no more call-waiting
suffocating mental masturbating
threw out the nice-icle, became an icicle and just got so madical, badical, operadical

operadical! operadical! operadical! operadical!

i’ve said some rather impolite things
sorry, b, my bad. jk. wrong!
ownage! ownage! ownage!

- markella lyrics

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