Golden Filth in good condition (sic)

Twerp talk right off the bat
Into center field, why run into a fence
To play bohemian Olympic contests
Against ones own side I ask as
"A retard or crazy man"
As long labelled by the unreal estate guy
Who is happy to share a hammock
But little else
Despite rampant bragging on
Illustrious wealth, property,
And the dubious distinctions that gloating entails, scum goddess from
The lower Eastside how were they
To know only 3 weeks into the pickle
That his cuke was a cuckold?
Not that self restraint needs a jacket
With connected sleeves, just
A steady stream of lawyers
To unwrap like furniture, keeping only
The styrofoam for backup pillows or
Snacks for "guests"
It'll fill their belly like most hollow lies
And also slow them down
After we confiscate their brand new
Bohemian shoes they bought
With disability coupons.
When one needs a fiddle player
Go cheap as you can
Cuz the side costs add up
Best get one or two
Fer $10 an hour by the burnedside
Bridge, bridge sagging with homemade
Shit. Fug you
Twit, and your one star
"Everyone loves me"
Sense of self review that easily plagiarizes
Paradise, until caught
Like a greasy baby
In a center fielders mitt
Mimicked once too often to denigrate
As instant replay clearly
This gig sport illustrates, chasing the ball
Over those blue hills
It's not my record that's the problem
It's their fancy bent needle
And a turntable wobbly from the get go.