Busdriver - Jhelli Beam Sorry. Fuckers

Lyrics

I’m at my tittie signing at the Barnes&Nobles
You brown-nose but your downloads only show marginal growth
Why do you dress like a lesbian welder?
Only middle-aged women look sexy in elk fur
You get injured at the hipster bar
I hit you with a ninja star then I speed off in my car
My life is like a day-to-day porn shoot
You’ll mayday for more troops when I say, “Sorry, Fuckers!”
See that girl, she’s a great lay with her scorched roots
Plus she got a Grade A horse caboose
That’s my lady! I just squeeze her cheeks
While you sit and twitch like a Jesus freak
You’re from Hollywood; you get your sphincter bleached
Sit you ass home and eat your quiche
I’m the dude that your chick would be pleased to me
She’ll want to suck me off with those beaver teeth
But I decline the offer, I drive a flying saucer
To perform on neighboring moons
And do the giddy-up with some iffy slut
Who’s drinking pick-me-ups out of those Dixie cups
To the young boozer, and the drug user
But the syringe on the baking teaspoon
That means play this it’ll spike your blood sugar
I’ll have your soul mate tied to the sub woofer

Sorry fuckers
You squares fucked up plus your haircut sucks
Watch your girl upchuck
Sorry fuckers
We get their thumbs up
Make ‘em cry, bleed, dry heave
Sorry fuckers
We’ll extract the bitch in you
Sorry fuckers
And dictate what you listen to
Give them face time with unloved lady’s men
Eschewing life through a dumb 80’s trend

With a litany of pop culture reference points
My tenor voice will make the women all wet and moist
You act gender bent
While I’m wrestling with women in boxers with leopard print
And yes, that’s me arching a pouring glass at the tee-off
Me getting the boarding pass at the kiosk
Me eating fish with French cream sauce
Be celebrated at the confetti toss
I’m waving from the Project Blowed parade float
Completely nude under my raincoat
While you’re in your backpacker entrapments
Battle rapping with a series of gay jokes
You’re welcomed to peep game
But when they start riding the jock they seldom deplane
A deceased cock, a pudding geyser
The hung dong’s the swung baton of the womanizer
But for my bitches it’s a springboard
To a place where dreams are forged
And I’ll smack those geeky young twerps
Out of their medium shirts