Grifter’s Crusade
Tucker Carlson, a Balaam cursing for gold,
White trash shyster who’s bought and sold.
He saw the MAGA rallies, felt the pull—
Now drapes in God’s armor, a wolf in wool.
He speaks of God, of a demon fight,
Casting shadows left and right.
Paid anti semite is his new game,
Jew hatred—he now fans the flame.
With every speech, he spreads disease,
A bubonic Muslim rat, eager to please.
A Qatari slut, a washed-up whore,
Bra stuffed with cash, begging for more.
Hunter Biden’s best friend,
Shielded his sins from a bitter end.
Waving the cross, raising cheers,
As Alex Jones whispers in his ears.
Golden spoon up his ass, face aglow,
A daemon’s smirk, a well-rehearsed show.
An elitist who plays the people’s friend,
Hoping to seize MAGA in the end.
In a filthy Qatari gas station strip,
He slowly sways, oiled and slick.
On a gold plated pole, he’ll dance and twirl,
Selling his soul like a working girl.
In a haze of smoke and neon glare,
Two patrons take their usual chair.
Putin unzips, Emir Tamim leans in,
The same request, the same old sin.
They wear him down, they make him squeal,
on his knees, with carpet burns, he takes the deal.
He bites his lip, but opens wide,
An aristocratic hoe, has no pride.
But the faithful know, in the hush,
His patriotic zeal—a grifting rush.
Tucker, just like Balaam, Pharaoh, and Titus who tried—
Their endeavors crumbled, and their legacies died.
For “I will bless those who bless you, true,
And curse the ones who curse you too.”
Credit: The Appalachian Mountain Band
References and Sources
Hi, My Name Is Tucker Carlson and I’m A Swamp Creature
The Smartest Guy Joe Knows