How lucky can some shmucks be?
This one was hitched to Britney
And he's no-talented.
Lame sycophant is K-Fed.

This dude is a loser sap,
Can't even succeed in rap.
On his talent he'll float?
Nope, the ahole lacks a mote.

It's the ninth inning;
Creep can't keep leeching off winnings,
Back to his white-trash beginnings.
Ex-wife, at least, is beautiful,
And she's not quite as inbred.
The deadwood she has shed,
Dumped the dick,
Brain finally clicked in her head.

His accounts in the red,
K-Fed, off Brit's tit you fed.

Maybe a loan he'll float?
But who will co-sign the note?

Time to stop milking
The chick and desist from bilking.
Stop hangin' with rapper ilk 'n'
He might have to be dutiful,
Now that he's no longer wed,
Get a job, earn his own bread.
The deal is done, Fedster, no more milking the chick;
Rapper shtik ain't doin' the trick.
Lost the chick;
K-Fed, the tit has been bled.