Hip Hop, RapDNSK
Shusky Canine - Blissfully Blindlossless

A raw-ass, Funkdoobiest-style spoken word odyssey through filth, fries, failure, and freedom.

No filter.

We’re talking nasty metaphors, absurd detail, and late-night confession energy — like a stoner-poet went feral in a diner at 4am with nothing but lube, leftover fries, and a vendetta against society.

Title: “Blissfully Blind” - (Longform Explicit Funk Rap / Spoken Word Rampage).

Clocking in at 4 verses + 2 choruses + bridge + outro.

[Verse 1 – 16 Bars]
I’m that grease-soaked prophet in a piss-stained booth,
French fries with pepper and a blunt full of truth.
Ain’t shaved in days, got ketchup on my soul,
Lookin’ like Jesus if he lost all control.
I’m the bastard of boredom, the god of bad habits,
Jerkin’ off to static and conspiracy pamphlets.
Phone dead, wallet empty, dick half-hard,
Tryna text my ex just to boost my regard.
Got a twitch in my eye and a fifth in my coat,
Life’s a dick joke written on a suicide note.
The waitress knows my name — and hates it,
Still I tip her in loose change and lateness.
I rap like your therapist died mid-sentence,
Spittin' wisdom like “fuck it” is a form of penance.
This ain’t depression — this is style, bitch,
Cynicism with swag, that filth-rich itch.

[Chorus – 8 Bars]
French fries with pepper — fuck a silver spoon,
I was raised on noise and late-night doom.
Blissfully blind with a grin and a rash,
Tryna fuck life raw ‘til we both collapse.
I don’t pray — I moan at the moon,
I don’t save — I snort typos in tune.
East Coast gutter, where the rats high-five,
And the freaks like me just feel alive.

[Verse 2 – 16 Bars]
I’m a low-budget god with a burnt-out halo,
Fried brain with a side of queso.
Ate shrooms with a priest, now I talk to my piss,
It says “you’re still here?” and I answer, “this is bliss.”
I’ve smoked blunts rolled in eviction slips,
Fucked models with trauma and bitten lips.
I’m the punchline they whisper at cult meetings,
Laughin’ while I’m losin’ all my teeth to beatings.
You meditate — I medicate with bourbon,
Makin' peace with the voices that call me vermin.
I’ve jerked off in confessions, screamed at trees,
And still found time to say “thank you” to cheese.
Every fry I eat is a prayer to filth,
Every bar I spit’s like I hate my guilt.
So don’t preach to me from your rooftop grace —
I’ll moon God while I’m pissin’ in place.

[Bridge – Degenerate Gospel]
Yeah… I licked the grease off her thigh,
Tasted fate and MSG.
Woke up in a puddle of quotes I never said,
Wrote a haiku on a napkin with blood and tea.
Man, fuck peace.
I want fries, funk, and filthy sex.
Give me chaos in a diner,
And a waitress who forgets my checks.

[Chorus – 8 Bars Reprise]
French fries with pepper — fuck your fate,
I came to dine with ghosts and masturbate.
Laugh now, die weird, that’s the code I spit,
I’m the piss-stained bard in a cosmic skit.
I got no goals, no grace, just rage and snack,
And a notebook full of reasons I ain’t comin’ back.
So slide me the tray, light up the end,
In this East Coast Mecca where I don’t pretend.

[Spoken]
Yeah… I’m not lost,
I just stopped readin’ the map.
I eat shame like dessert.
I fuck failure with no cap.

[Verse 3 – 16 Bars]
Yo, I’m the dropout messiah in a triple-X coat,
With a voice like a bong hit and nicotine throat.
My dreams got mugged by reality’s henchmen,
Now I freestyle verses like welfare extensions.
Dumber than love, smarter than crime,
I wipe my mouth with receipts and commit to the grime.
Life’s a lunch tray — half full of lies,
But the fries got pepper and that’s how I survive.
Used to chase peace, now I chase the absurd,
Tryna tongue-kiss the void just to feel one word.
You believe in karma? I believe in spite,
And jerkin’ off in limbo just to pass the night.
I been ghosted by angels, kissed by whores,
Slept on couches with blood on the floors.
I’m blissfully blind, with a chip in my head,
Still dancin’ with demons that I thought were dead.

[Verse 4 – 16 Bars]
I don’t do therapy, I do 3AM fries,
And sermons whispered to fluorescent skies.
I’m the guy in the corner with the twitch and the laugh,
Who says, “Life is a joke — just do the math.”
I been high for weeks on spite and caffeine,
Got kicked outta church for sayin’ “God’s just mean.”
I flirt with disaster, I ghost my guilt,
And I nut in the void with a dirty tilt.
I got trauma in my socks, hunger in my teeth,
Paranoia in my boxers, and sin underneath.
I don’t need salvation — I just need a lighter,
And a bad bitch who quotes street fighter.
Yo, I’m blissed out, burnt out, wild and free,
A saint in a sewer just tryin’ to be me.
So pour that ketchup, spike that Coke,
I’ll toast to the end with a broke man’s joke.

[Chorus]
French fries with pepper — fuck your fate,
I came to dine with ghosts and masturbate.
Laugh now, die weird, that’s the code I spit,
I’m the piss-stained bard in a cosmic skit.
I got no goals, no grace, just rage and snack,
And a notebook full of reasons I ain’t comin’ back.
So slide me the tray, light up the end,
In this East Coast Mecca where I don’t pretend.

[Outro – Spoken Fade]
Yeah… I’m not lost,
I just stopped readin’ the map.
I eat shame like dessert.
I fuck failure with no cap.
Call it madness,
Call it art,
Call it a side of fries
With a peppered heart.
Blissfully blind…
And seein’ just fine.