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