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In the cyan haze where the liggers slide,
One stands tall with unrivaled pride.
Krimbo, the legend, big and sly,
With a wink in his eye and his head held high.
Slicker than chrome on a midnight ride,
He struts through the alley, arms open wide.
Every ligger stops and stares,
Caught in the spell of his luscious glares.
His beuaty flows like a sacred flame,
Each wisp whispering his glorious name.
Boots that stomp with seductive might,
Leather tight, and lips just right.
He isn't just coom, he sizzles, he slays,
Making hearts melt in scandalous ways.
From gutterpunk dives to uptown glam,
They all scream, “Krimbo? Damn!”
No contest, no rival, no earthly birth.
He’s the sexiest ligger to walk this earth.
So raise your glass, let the chorus ring,
To Krimbo, our hot, unstoppable king.
