| Ahh! |
| You sick asshole, let me go
|
| Somebody please! |
| Help!
|
| Oh my God, please help me! |
| Oh
|
| "It fits perfect"
|
| Better watch out, sucker, now I got you where I want ya
|
| Onslaught coming and I'm packing in my lunch-a
|
| Bunch of missile launchers and a bunch of contra–
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| Band, van full of ganja, now come on, jump
|
| Man, stop moshin' Marshall; |
| oh my God, ya
|
| Doing the cha-cha and the Cucaracha with a quadra–
|
| Plegic, boogying down to Frank Sinatra
|
| Lindsay to the Lohan, lick it while you let me watch ya
|
| Who'da knew the Buddha'd do to me what it's done?
|
| Such cynicism when there’s izm in my system
|
| Blunt hypnotism, lift the spliff up to my lips, son
|
| So much on my hands, I got to give my kids a fist bump
|
| Christo–pher Reeves swimmin' in my swim trunks
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| "Mister – Help me" is what he said to me and then sunk
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| Women, skinning them and cutting them up in chunks
|
| In comes the woman with cocoa butter skin, once
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| Once again, they call me Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
|
| Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
|
| Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
|
| Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
|
| Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
|
| You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
|
| Always, you can see him lurkin' in the hallways
|
| Carcasses of Caucasian females in his crawl space
|
| How the hell did he fit 'em all into such a small place?
|
| Hide 'em in the wall, well, how long will the drywall take?
|
| Well, fuck it then, I got nothing but time, I'll wait
|
| Until it dries, for the moment, I guess you're all safe
|
| After I sand it and buff it, I guess that I'll paint
|
| My chainsaw's out of gas, my regular saw ain't
|
| Now here I come again, damn stomach rumbling
|
| You can even hear the evil spirits coming from within
|
| Someone's in the back of my damn house, rummaging
|
| It's a girl, she looks pretty thin, but I want her skin
|
| Vinn, on the hunt again, when will it ever end?
|
| Evelyn, why you trying to fight? |
| You will never win
|
| Severin' legs, arms; |
| damn, there goes another limb
|
| Pull the lever then; |
| trap door, death is evident
|
| Once again, they call me Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
|
| Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
|
| Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
|
| Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
|
| Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
|
| You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
|
| Now what you know about Buffalo Bill? |
| Nothin', so chill
|
| Fuckin' ho, you better fuckin' hold still
|
| Make sure none of that lotion in the bucket don't spill
|
| Cut 'em, gut 'em, and just get to stuffin' those girls
|
| Man, I think she had enough of those pills
|
| Sedate her, then I wait, I come back later
|
| Just-a clutching those steel
|
| Blades, baby, when I cut ya don't squeal
|
| I hate the loud noises, I fuckin' told you!
|
| I keep hearing voices like
|
| "Wouldn't ya like to go and get your butcher knife
|
| And push it right through her
|
| While you put ya shish kebab skewers into her
|
| Barbecue her, would you do to her what you usually do
|
| To a girl who's skin's newer?"
|
| (In a world of sin you are, this is turning into a
|
| Torment tournament of sorts, Christmas ornament you are)
|
| I'll be sure to Ginsu ya 'til there's no more skin to ya
|
| Boo-yah! |
| Who ya think you're fucking with?
|
| Duck, because here he comes again
|
| Once again, they call me Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
|
| Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
|
| Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
|
| Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
|
| Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
|
| You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
|
| Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill |