If I may so boldly break out into song and dance.....
Cigars are evil, you won\'t miss \'em
We have ways to stimulate that smell.
What a sorry fella,
Rolled up and smoked like a panatella
Here on level one of Robot Hell.
Gambling\'s wrong and so is cheating,
So is forging phony I-O-Us.
Let\'s let lady luck decide,
What type of torture\'s justified.
I\'m the pit boss here on level 2.
-Ooh! Deep fried Robot.
-Please tell me why....
-Please, read this Fifty-five page warrant.
-There must be robots worse than I!
-We\'ve checked around, there really aren\'t.
-Then please, let me explain. My crimes were merely boyish pranks.
-You stole from girl scouts, nuns, and banks!
-Don\'t blame me, blame my upbringing!
-Please stop sinning while I\'m singing!
Selling bootleg tapes is wrong,
Musicians need that outcome to survive.
-Yo, Bender! Gonna make some noise with your harddrive scratched by the Beastie Boys!
(Insery uber Dj scratch thingy)
That\'s whatcha whatcha whatcha get on level five!
(Insert stupid part with Leela and Fry that no one cares about)
Fencing diamonds, fixing cockfights,
Publishing indecent magazines.
You\'ll pay for every crime,
Knee deep in electric slime.....
You\'ll suffer til the end of time,
Enduring tortures, most which rhyme,
Trapped forever here in robot hell!
*Cough*
What? It\'s the weekend.