RED-SUIT RENEGADE (RUCKUS COMMITTEE X NAUGHTY SANTA VERSION)

Spitwick: Yo, somebody said the man in red went rogue—

Bounce Ledger: Sewed his suit with gasoline and attitude—

Gravelmouth: And kicked open December’s back door.

Naughty Santa (bursting in): Who stole my cookies? And why’s my sleigh parked crooked?

Spitwick: It was you, man. You crashed it sideways.

Naughty Santa: Don’t tell me my business, tiny lightning bolt.

Spitwick:

Heard a whisper through the pole ’bout a cousin gone feral,

Velvet coat crooked like a carnival peril.

Bounce Ledger:

Red suit leanin’ like it lost its warranty.

Gravelmouth:

Laugh so loud it violates city ordinance.

Naughty Santa (yelling):

I heard that! My laugh is a federally protected miracle!

Spitwick:

He slipped past the workshop, rulebook iced,

Left reindeer cryin’ like “man, that ain’t nice.”

Bounce Ledger:

Dial that secret number and he picks up fast—

Gravelmouth:

Confessin’ crimes he ain’t even asked about.

Naughty Santa:

I like to stay ahead of the investigation.

Spitwick: He ain’t cruel, he just breaks patterns.

Bounce Ledger: Renegade ribcage full of sleigh-bell static.

Gravelmouth: Spillin’ laughter through December’s alleys—

Naughty Santa (shouting):

And I’m takin’ names while I do it, sugar plum!

All:

He’s the Red-Suit Renegade, rattlin’ through your holiday.

Hold tight now, mischief’s on full display.

Contraband jingle bells, grin too wide to tame,

Naughty Santa burnin’ down the candy-cane fast lane.

Naughty Santa:

Velvet chaos! Cinnamon thunder! Respect my legend!

All:

Raise your glass and testify: the Red-Suit Renegade.

Bounce Ledger:

He’ll ask about your naughty level like he’s takin’ notes,

Brag about the time he got banned from Santa’s post.

Naughty Santa:

That was political, and I stand by it.

Spitwick:

Patron saint of harmless wild, scent of smoke and spice—

Gravelmouth:

Every story told ’bout him gotta be told twice.

Naughty Santa:

Because the first time you won’t believe it.

Bounce Ledger:

He’ll call you gloriously suspicious, spark in your tone,

Drag your courage from the dark like he’s chargin’ your phone.

Spitwick:

Which you need, Bounce, ‘cause your battery’s always dead.

Bounce Ledger:

Stop narrating my life, man.

Spitwick: He ain’t handin’ missions, ain’t runnin’ quests—

Bounce Ledger: Just droppin’ jokes in the twilight mess—

Gravelmouth: And when December starts feelin’ hollow—

Naughty Santa:

That’s your cue to follow me, reindeer rejectees!

All:

He’s the Red-Suit Renegade, rattlin’ through your holiday.

Hold tight now, mischief’s on full display.

Contraband jingle bells, grin too wild to chain,

Naughty Santa skiddin’ down the candy-cane fast lane.

Naughty Santa:

If trouble had a tailor, baby, it’d stitch me twice.

All:

Lift your voice for the legend of the Red-Suit Renegade.

Gravelmouth:

He ain’t here to hand out orders—

Naughty Santa:

Not tonight. No overtime. No responsibility.

Bounce Ledger:

Just pourin’ stories like whiskey in winter.

Spitwick:

But if your pulse wants somethin’ deeper—

Naughty Santa:

Then step in the booth marked “don’t push that button.”

Gravelmouth:

Which he built himself. From scrap. And peppermint.

Naughty Santa:

Now look… good Santa’s punchin’ a double shift.

I’m off the clock.

So what kinda secrets you hidin’, you beautiful disasters?

Spitwick:

I’m uncomfortable.

Bounce Ledger:

I’m intrigued.

Gravelmouth:

I’m telling you nothing, man. Nothing.

All:

He’s the Red-Suit Renegade, rattlin’ through your holiday.

Brace yourself, mischief’s on full display.

Pocket full of coal, heart of gold to match—

One flick of that mustache and chaos hatches fast.

Naughty Santa (screaming triumphantly):

Long live the lore! Long live the velvet! Long live ME!

All:

Raise the roof for the Red-Suit Renegade.

Bounce Ledger: Did he just steal our drummer?

Spitwick: He stole the whole drum kit.

Gravelmouth: And the van.

Naughty Santa (distant): You can’t prove anything!