I'm too sexy for my fold. too sexy for my

I'm too sexy for my fold. too sexy for my fold. Yes, I'm too sexy for my fold.

I'm a folder, you know what I mean, / And I do my little turn on the keyboard. / Yeah, on the keyboard, on the keyboard, yeah. / I do my little turn on the keyboard.

/ I'm too sexy for my LAN, / Too sexy for my LAN, / New York, and Japan. / I'm too sexy for my fold, / Too sexy for my fold. / Fold's going to pass me.

I'm a folder / you know what I mean / and I type my little folds on the website / Yeah on the website (2x) / I type my little folds on the website / I'm too sexy for my shorts /

Too sexy for my shorts / super sexy reports / I'm a folder / You know what I mean / and I type little folds on the website / Yeah on the website (2X) / I type my little folds

on the website / oh yeah / I type my little folds on the website / my folds / too sexy for my shorts / too sexy for my shirt / cuz I type with words like <CENSORED> (2X) / oh yeah

Unfortunately the childrens' ears began to melt into a silky liquid as the song continued to play. The teacher dashed over to the music player to turn it off, but it was too late:

every student present that day had died in under a minute. The teacher tried to scream but no sound came out. The song could never be played again.

At least not in this school, the teacher didn't know it but the song had big plans for itself. It mesmerized her into playing the song twenty more times in twenty different states

of consciousness, with varying degrees of awareness. Top-tier music execs came and heard the spacey teacher croon the tune. After twenty takes, the industrious melody became a hit.