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comp song - the spits (band) lyrics

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big fat mothaf*ckin’ super seattle!
we ain’t finna fit cause we look like cattle!
talk about the music and i’ll give you a slap!
ten without ten are people who can’t!
we started out playing small bras!
signed a contract, now they drop big cars!
make the boomers love them when they’re really not!
man, that chris bell makes these hot!(?)

the boxies are here the most!
more like a racist joke, duct tape, and bonnagе cr*p!
well, roxy and foxy, you need a flip*slap!
ripples! well, thеy sure they are!
rippin’ your girls in the back of they car!
p*ssy*ass music is all you make!
flipped his fan and it’ll be a mistake!

oh, sh*t!
these motherf*ckers talking some real sh*t!
what you say, motherf*cker? say it to my face!
it’s a stranger! motherf*cker, piece of sh*t!
mcd, you can suck my d*ck!
think i’ll buy a gun and go to my [?]
[?], i’ll have your head on a sh*ll!
half*beef with a piece of b*tt*rock!
snap nail, you suck on my c*ck!
move this way on your guitar, you f*cking 50*hitter, you wanna be rockstar?
oh my god!
you’re a rip*off, motherf*cker!
consider it comic gear, mixmaster, i hate you!

oh my god!
what’d you think of that?
aw man, that sh*t’s messed up!

go to the frickin’ get your money back!
man, this n*gga is really whack!
dirtnap got you and i’ll tell you why!
this is real, i got your eye!
motherf*cker, you’ll feel a f*ckin’ jump!
well, it made him better than a gun!

that’s right! the motherf*ckers gotta die!

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