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lirik lagu the crab-grass baby – frank zappa

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crab-gr-ss baby:
stroke me pompadour, pompaduooor, pompaduooor, pompaduooor.
stroke me pompadour, father. stroke it nicely while i tell you about the
problems i am having with my car an my girlfriend. ooo-wo-woo, the
white man’s burden!

her and her girlfriend used to go out and booze it up and tear up the
upholstery; rip the seats completely out, and so i got a fifty-six olds.
about the time i got it running decently, she got in it and wrecked the
trans… tore it completely up, so i had to get another oldsmobile
(either that or go to tijuana or go to brown moses way down
in egypt-land). it’s so hard on a child when his car is f-cked up.
buy me a volvo, faaather.

harry-as-a-boy:
isn’t it terrific, artificial rhonda!

crab-gr-ss baby:
one-adam-twelve… see the enormous white pompadour! ha-ha-ha-ho!
that’s a good one! hoo-hoo-hoo.

harry-as-a-boy:
he’s so young, and yet, so wise!

crab-gr-ss baby:
i p–ped my pants, p–ped my pants, p–ped my pants! i went doody,
faaather, sob-sob-sob-sob-sob.

harry-as-a-boy:
his vocabulary is astonishing!

crab-gr-ss baby:
so what if you suck a little c-ck every once in a while?

harry-as-a-boy:
ohhh… i’m so lucky to have a son like this…

crab-gr-ss baby:
barf me out… gag me with a volvo!

harry-as-a-boy:
i can’t wait to show him to all the fellas down at the mine-shaft!

crab-gr-ss baby:
take me to the movies. buy me a balloon. stroke me pompadour!

harry-as-a-boy:
look! look! look at the p-ck-r on him, wouldja! goodjy-goodjy-goodjy-goo!
hoo hoo hoo!

thing-fish:
dis boy have a ‘provlem’! however, how ’bout a nice round of applause
fo de three ‘wise mammies’, comin’ atcha outa chute numba five!

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