OFFICAL CUSTOM COPYPASTA THREAD

[xBLOODYxEMOxVAMPIRExTEARS]

Post your lyrics here!

Also I'll add one warning when you DON'T post a lyric in here, and then another one, and then each time you break this rule the warning count will be squared.

(This also includes edited lyrics)
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[lulzDUCKROLLlulz]

lost harbl

[ReiClone88]

Dethklok - Afroduck (Thunder Horse)

Summon...
Summon...
Summon...
Summon...

Afro...
Afro...
Afro...
Afro...

Afroduck...
Afroduck...
Afroduck...
Afroduck...

Racism...
Racism...
Racism...

Afro...
Duck...
Afro...
Duck...

Afro...
Duck...
Afro...
Duck...

Afro, Afro...
Afro, Afro, Afro...
Afro...
Afro...
Duck...

Afroduck...
Afroduck...
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[lulzDUCKROLLlulz]

[ReiClone88]

Dong Song

Parody of Thong Song by Sisqo.

[ReiClone88]

In The BOXGET

A modification of "Village People - In The Navy"

[Anonplussed]

A little something I modified from this when a furfag habbo showed up and ran the /b/lockaid:

[ReiClone88]

[Anonplussed]

[White Ranger]

I add the original MLK speech, it's hate speech when you ask mod-cleo NOT really a lyric but it WILL piss those fags off i guarantee.


I am happy to join with you today
in what will go down in history
as the greatest demonstration for freedom
in the history of our nation.

Five score years ago, a great American,
in whose symbolic shadow we stand today,
signed the Emancipation Proclamation.
This momentous decree came as a
great beacon light of hope
to millions of Negro slaves
who had been seared in the flames of
withering injustice.
It came as a joyous daybreak
to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later,
the Negro still is not free.
One hundred years later,
the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled
by the manacles of segregation
and the chains of discrimination.
One hundred years later,
the Negro lives on
a lonely island of poverty
in the midst of a vast ocean
of material prosperity.
One hundred years later,
the Negro is still languishing
in the corners of American society
and finds himself an exile in his own land.
So we have come here today
to dramatize a shameful condition.

In a sense we have come
to our nation's capital to cash a check.
When the architects of our republic
wrote the magnificent words
of the Constitution and the Declaration
of Independence, they were
signing a promissory note to which
every American was to fall heir.
This note was a promise that all men,
yes, black men as well as white men,
would be guaranteed the unalienable
rights of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

It is obvious today that America
has defaulted on this promissory
note insofar as her citizens of color
are concerned.
Instead of honoring this sacred obligation,
America has given the Negro people
a bad check, a check which
has come back marked "insufficient funds."
But we refuse to believe that
the bank of justice is bankrupt.
We refuse to believe that there
are insufficient funds in the
great vaults of opportunity of this nation.
So we have come to cash this check
? a check that will give us upon demand
the riches of freedom
and the security of justice.
We have also come to this
hallowed spot to remind America
of the fierce urgency of now.
This is no time to engage
in the luxury of cooling off
or to take the tranquilizing
medicine of gradualism.
Now is the time to make real
the promises of democracy.
Now is the time to rise from the dark
and desolate valley of segregation
to the sunlit path of racial justice.
Now is the time to lift our nation
from the quick sands of racial injustice
to the solid rock of brotherhood.
Now is the time to make justice
a reality for all of God's children.

It would be fatal for
the nation to overlook the urgency
of the moment.
This sweltering summer
of the Negro's legitimate
discontent will not pass
until there is an invigorating
autumn of freedom and equality.
Nineteen sixty-three is not an end,
but a beginning.
Those who hope that the Negro
needed to blow off steam
and will now be content will have
a rude awakening if the nation
returns to business as usual.
There will be neither rest
nor tranquility in America
until the Negro is granted
his citizenship rights.
The whirlwinds of revolt will continue
to shake the foundations
of our nation until the
bright day of justice emerges.

But there is something
that I must say to my people
who stand on the warm threshold
which leads into the palace of justice.
In the process of gaining our rightful place
we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds.
Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst
for freedom by drinking from
the cup of bitterness and hatred.

We must forever conduct our struggle
on the high plane of dignity and discipline.
We must not allow our creative protest
to degenerate into physical violence.
Again and again we must rise
to the majestic heights of meeting
physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy
which has engulfed the Negro community
must not lead us to a distrust
of all white people,
for many of our white brothers,
as evidenced by their presence
here today, have come to realize
that their destiny is tied up with
our destiny.
They have come to realize
that their freedom is inextricably
bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.

As we walk, we must make
the pledge that we shall always
march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking
the devotees of civil rights,
"When will you be satisfied?"
We can never be satisfied
as long as the Negro is the victim
of the unspeakable horrors
of police brutality.
We can never be satisfied,
as long as our bodies,
heavy with the fatigue of travel,
cannot gain lodging in the motels
of the highways and the hotels of the cities.
We cannot be satisfied as long
as the Negro's basic mobility
is from a smaller ghetto
to a larger one.
We can never be satisfied
as long as our children
are stripped of their selfhood
and robbed of their dignity by
signs stating "For Whites Only".
We cannot be satisfied as long
as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote
and a Negro in New York believes
he has nothing for which to vote.
No, no, we are not satisfied,
and we will not be satisfied
until justice rolls down like waters
and righteousness like a mighty stream.

I am not unmindful that some of you
have come here out of great trials
and tribulations.
Some of you have come fresh
from narrow jail cells.
Some of you have come from areas
where your quest for freedom
left you battered by the storms
of persecution and staggered
by the winds of police brutality.
You have been the veterans of
creative suffering.
Continue to work with the faith
that unearned suffering is redemptive.

Go back to Mississippi,
go back to Alabama,
go back to South Carolina,
go back to Georgia,
go back to Louisiana,
go back to the slums
and ghettos of our northern cities,
knowing that somehow this situation
can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair.

I say to you today,
my friends, so even though we face
the difficulties of today and tomorrow,
I still have a dream.
It is a dream deeply rooted
in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day
this nation will rise up and live
out the true meaning of its creed:
"We hold these truths to be self-evident:
that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that one day
on the red hills of Georgia
the sons of former slaves
and the sons of former slave owners
will be able to sit down together
at the table of brotherhood.

I have a dream that one day
even the state of Mississippi,
a state sweltering with the heat
of injustice, sweltering with the
heat of oppression,
will be transformed into an
oasis of freedom and justice.

I have a dream that my four
little children will one day live
in a nation where they will not be
judged by the color of their skin
but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day,
down in Alabama,
with its vicious racists,
with its governor having
his lips dripping with the words of
interposition and nullification;
one day right there in Alabama,
little black boys and black girls
will be able to join hands
with little white boys and white girls
as sisters and brothers.

I have a dream today.

I have a dream that one day
every valley shall be exalted,
every hill and mountain
shall be made low,
the rough places will be made plain,
and the crooked places
will be made straight,
and the glory of the Lord
shall be revealed,
and all flesh shall see it together.

This is our hope.
This is the faith that I go back
to the South with.
With this faith we will be able
to hew out of the mountain
of despair a stone of hope.
With this faith we will be able to transform
the jangling discords of our nation
into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood.
With this faith we will be
able to work together,
to pray together,
to struggle together,
to go to jail together,
to stand up for freedom together,
knowing that we will be free one day.

This will be the day when all of
God's children will be able to sing
with a new meaning,
"My country, 'tis of thee,
sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died,
land of the pilgrim's pride,
from every mountainside,
let freedom ring."

And if America is to be a great
nation this must become true.
So let freedom ring
from the prodigious hilltops
of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from
the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from
the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania!

Let freedom ring from
the snowcapped Rockies of Colorado!

Let freedom ring
from the curvaceous slopes of California!

But not only that;
let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia!

Let freedom ring from
Lookout Mountain of Tennessee!

Let freedom ring from
every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside,
let freedom ring.

And when this happens,
when we allow freedom to ring,
when we let it ring from every village
and every hamlet, from every state
and every city, we will be able to
speed up that day when all of
God's children, black men and white men,
Jews and Gentiles,
Protestants and Catholics,
will be able to join hands and sing
in the words of the old Negro spiritual,
"Free at last! free at last!
thank God Almighty, we are free at last!"



Extra long copypasta is extra long.

Feel free to edit, to /b/ version or alike.
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SIXTY NIGGERS

[ReiClone88]

Nursing Home Scat

A copypasta I just wrote earlier tonight about a nurse fucking a bed-ridden obese old man with hemmoroids.

[xBLOODYxEMOxVAMPIRExTEARS]

[D-Breaker Kerta]

Here ya go. Hope I don't get warned as I think this is the correct place this time. It's to "I will survive"

[ReiClone88]

Wow, reading nursery rhymes to my daughter has lead to the rediscovery of lulzy rhymes.

[ghey4bridget]

Lizzy Fucking Borden.
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