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lirik lagu what’s your malfunction – funkoars

[intro]
welcome back to who gives a flying f-ck, community radio,
the only place that plays the songs that you don’t give a flying f-ck about.
be the first caller in the next 15 minutes to receive absolutely f-cking nothing…

[verse 1 – sesta]
feelin’ alright, had a top day,
vibin’ all night, on the bombay.
on the, bull till i drop and then i took a sip,
but who know’s what the f-ck’s in this.
now i’m feeling a little left of the center,
thinking i’ve hadn’t had a dance, looking like i walked into web,
pants falling again, who would have thought? pull them up, n-body seen and you got away clean.
they don’t need to know that your d-ck range in fallacy,
when it’s flaccid, double-a battery.
nah i’m kidding, i’m swing-a-ding-a-lingin’ on your missus kickin’ in front of you brov while she’s playing with it.
is that your bf? (no) well, where’s your gf? (sh-t) what the beef, b-tch?
took a swig of the last bit of whatever’s left and i dipped the f-ck, and i’m an unconscious… mess.

[chorus]
what’s the malfunction?
what’s your malfunction?
gotta eat, gotta work, gotta sh-t,
whatever gets you through the night.
what’s the malfunction?
what’s your malfunction?
gotta eat, gotta work, gotta sh-t,
whatever gets you through the night.

[verse 2 – trials]
vibin’ all day, still kicking, too cool for the school,
but old enough to buy the students the booze.
so i’m the cool guy, with the young kids, dim the pool lights. did some dumb sh-t now!
the fake id didn’t work in the shops,
it’ll work for the t when she speaks to the cops.
i got big feet. (what) you know what this means? (what) it means p-n-s short but fatter than fritz meat.
i get a, get a bit of liquor, pick a chicken head, already chicken fed, now i’ve got an itchy trigger finger.
mmm, lady, let me test you tonight, i’m not looking for my future wife to get to be next to,
i’m looking for the five-minute special. r. kelly on the belly, then i’ll film it on the celly
what’s your malfunction? mother f-cker don’t start me,
party ’til i’m started walking like i’m heather mccartney (ha)
ooh, ain’t got a leg to stand on baby,
let’s dance! (da-dada-dada)

[verse 3 – hons]
blindin’ all day, grindin’ all night,
love to re-buy, but my cash tight.
look, i’m a sucker for a card game,
and with that marked ace, you and your paycheck can part ways,
i’m a funkoar. no respect for cash so i bet my stack on the first draw,
trying to push one past you. man, i’m tilting like a drunk on a three-legged bar stool.
my malfunction, my bank ain’t big enough. in crown car park, i’m like “stick ’em up!”
if i ain’t stuck with tour dates, i’m on the four-eight table talkin’ ’till my jaw ache.
now my jacks look good until the king on the last
some bad beats like a swedish m-ssage. or the texas, yeah, even nil or all draw,
your money’s welcome at mine, just leave your luck at the door, and tell me,

[intermission]
what’s your malfunction? (yeah)
what’s your malfunction? (honz)
what’s your malfunction?
what’s your malfunction?

- funkoars

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