R-B-Flot-ILLA: A Translation

Now lemme listen here, you like drink? You like drink those drink? Those drinks you drink, they good? Well I got some news up the Empire State Building: ain't got NOTHIN on a bottomless R-B-Flot-ILLA [root beer float].

Ya go to that baby bird nest with the hot flamingos [Red Robin], order some meatmanmaker above the strings of a spicy god [A1 Peppercorn Burger], and then what? Huh? You know? You know what? Yeah, that's right -- R-B-Flot-ILLA.

Cost of doghair backjob in Cincinatti [$3.50], ya get you a endless supply of mudluffin moon laser [delicious beverage]. One, you like, "mmmmmmmm," two, you like, "mmmmmmmm," three and you turn into the nuclear suplex of decades past [get a stomach ache]. But it don't matta. That R-B-Flot-ILLA make yo night all right with a kiss of scissors on a razor blade sandwich [??? unintelligible].

But then the burger come, and is like, "awwwwww sheeeeeeeee." That waitress be hittin you up for another R-B-Flot-ILLA, and ya jus gotta say, "I found the forces in a Florentine carshop [no thank you]." 'Cause that burger, and damn is it a burger, is gonna make you find the meaning of life in The Hunchback of Notre Dame [be delicious].

Cross your forties [fingers] that you get some fifty [pretty] babe waitin you dry and dopemouth [serving you well]. Look in the back seat and whinny [leave a nice tip], for it took much gusto [spirit] to serve you all them R-B-Flot-ILLAs, though it only be two prolly unless you got a stomach made a glass tanks [that can hold a lot of food]. Your ancestors be proud.

Save your daughters [money] like a little girl who prefer a Ken doll to a Kenneth doll [mischievous slut]. Go get your bottomless R-B-Flot-ILLA today. Else suffer the consequences of a Greater Lobster Demon on holiday in Samoa [not having a root beer float].