He’s the guy with the mask, the sharp-edged knife,
Calls you up just to mess with your life.
Asks you, “What’s your favorite scary show?”
Before you know it, you’re running in your bathrobe.
He’s clumsy as hell, but somehow lethal,
Trips on the rug while he’s chasing people.
Ghostface, buddy, you need some grace,
You’re the only slasher falling flat on your face.
Oh, Ghostface, can’t keep a straight face,
You’re the terror of the town, but you’re kind of a disgrace.
Oh, Ghostface, you’re the king of cringe,
Sliding down the stairs while you’re plotting your revenge.
Lurking in the shadows, breathing so loud,
Trying to blend in, but you stand out in a crowd.
Your fashion’s on point—black robe and all,
But tripping over furniture? That’s your downfall.
You’re calling up teens like a prank gone bad,
"Is your fridge running?"—yeah, it’s just sad.
And when you swing, man, your aim’s not right,
You stab the couch, then fall out of sight.
Oh, Ghostface, can’t keep a straight face,
Your murder spree’s a blooper reel all over the place.
Oh, Ghostface, you’re a horror buff’s dream,
But your slasher routine’s more of a meme.
Oh, you sneak up quiet, but then you yell,
“You’re gonna die!”—man, what the hell?
Your knife’s impressive, but you need a plan,
‘Cause a doorframe just stopped you, my man.
You're scary but silly, like a haunted mime,
Your mask is iconic, but your moves ain't sublime.
Ghostface, you're a legend in a goofy way,
Forever tripping your way into Scream’s hall of fame.
Oh, Ghostface, can’t keep a straight face,
Stabbed a pillow instead of my face.
Oh, Ghostface, you’re the clumsy king,
But we love you anyway for your awkward swing.
So here’s to you, Ghostface, with your spooky style,
Keep running through the halls, you’re making us smile.
You’re a slasher, a legend, a joke, and a thrill,
Ghostface forever—just please don’t kill.