Stop Hitting Yourself Donald

Stop Hitting Yourself (Putin’s Puppet Parade)

Verse 1

Trump tweets “Putin, stop!” like he’s got control,

But Vlad’s got the remote, and he’s running the show.

Negotiation genius, master of the deal,

While Putin’s in the background spinning the wheel.

Pre-Chorus

Putin says, “Let’s talk peace, just you and me—

Forget Ukraine, forget the world, let’s set them free!”

He praises Trump’s wisdom, calls him “smart and strong,”

While conscripting more soldiers to keep the war dragging on.

Chorus

Stop hitting yourself, Donald , can’t you see?

Putin’s got your arm, and he’s swinging with glee.

You shout for a ceasefire, he laughs at your plea—

It’s a puppet parade, and you’re the marionette, whee!

Verse 2

Putin’s lies stack higher than a Moscow wall:

Says he wants peace, but keeps bombing through it all.

Russia offers nothing, not a single real deal,

While Ukraine’s on the table—honest, raw, and real.

Ukraine’s given everything, their cities and their pride,

But Russia started this war, and no one’s on their side.

Bridge

Remember that call where Vlad made you wait?

An hour on hold—what a power play date.

You beg for a handshake, he offers a fist,

You call it “negotiation”—oh, what a twist!

Putin plays you like a fiddle, with a smirk and a bow,

You dance to his tune, but who’s laughing now?

Verse 3

Putin’s the big bro, fists flying in the yard,

Trump holds your arms back, says, “Don’t take it so hard!”

He pockets your lunch money, calls it a fair trade,

Then tells the neighbors you just love charades.

He rewrites the story, says you started the fight,

While he and big bro laugh deep into the night.

Verse 4

They play king of the sandbox, draw lines in the dirt,

You’re left with the bruises, they’re never the ones hurt.

Trump waves a white flag, but it’s stained with your tears,

Putin whispers sweet nothings, confirming your fears.

The world’s watching closely, popcorn in hand,

While the bullies high-five and divide up your land.

You beg for some justice, a fair referee—

But the rules keep on changing, and you’re stuck as the “enemy.”

Verse 5

Trump’s supposed to be the ref, whistle in his hand,

But he’s winking at Putin, taking cues on demand.

He calls the fouls on Ukraine, ignores every shove,

Pretends he’s impartial, but he’s wearing Russian gloves.

Putin pins down the ref, the crowd’s in disbelief,

Trump’s punching his own face—what comic relief!

The game plays on, rules tossed out the door,

With Putin and Trump both fixing the score.

Final Chorus

Stop hitting yourself, Donald ,can’t you see?

Putin’s got your arm, and he’s swinging with glee.

You beg for a truce, but you’re caught in the game—

Negotiation tango, but the bruises remain.

Outro

You’re begging him “stop,” but he’s running the show,

And the world watches on as you punch your own nose.

Ukraine’s paying the price, while you play pretend,

And Putin’s still fiddling—will this farce ever end?

Stop Hitting Yourself Donald

Stop Hitting Yourself

Stop Hitting Yourself

Stop it , Stop it , Stop it