See the way he hops down the street
So fast—he ain’t shufflin’ his feet.
My, he holds his head up high,
A crazed look in his eye,
A spry guy.

He’s got shaky hands, and he’s loud;
He’s a man who just won’t be cowed.
Moves from a hop, then he runs,
A dizzying display, his buns,
And here is what makes him this way:

He drinks Red Bull,
And he talks a lot faster then he should.
He drinks Red Bull,
It’s that wretched, wretched swill that’s not good.
This mug’s no slug—he cuts the rug
Like somebody’s who’s on drugs,
That’s the reason why he’s as hot as a spark plug.

He reeks of energy,
Never sleeps, no entropy
’cause he guzzles Red Bull, mo’, mo’, mo,
He guzzles Red—slow, slow, slow? Not he!

Some folks think that he should stay
From that acidic shit away
And gravitate instead to a café au lait.

He drinks Red Bull,
And he walks a lot faster then he should.
He drinks Red Bull,
So it’s never ever still that he’s stood.
This mug’s no lug—he cuts the rug
Like somebody slugging drugs,
That’s the reason why—he’s had too many a chug.

He’s rife with energy,
Sometimes displays enmity
’cause he guzzles Red Bull, mo’, mo’, mo,
He guzzles Red—go, go, go does he!

He guzzles Red Bull. Coke? Oh no!
Coke’s so slow!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!