| Ooh ah, baby aw, she gaw, yeah
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| Tell me how you like it so far, baby pa
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| I thought, I thought, I saw some good putty tat by the bar
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| But when the light hit him, yo, I was like nah
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| Put the needle to the record when I’m getting butt naked
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| I like your microphone, do you mind if I check it?
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| One, two, yeah, I like the way it sounds
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| No feedback, I need that turn your ass around
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| Ding, dong, is anybody home?
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| I’m like, King Kong on a throne in Rome
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| I don’t have a car yet no rims of chrome
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| No diamonds no pretty stones
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| Just a dresser drawer filled with broken cell phones
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| But I didn’t pay my bill so no dial tones
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| But I don’t care hey people get loud
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| Jump on the stage can you hear me now?
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| Step, step, uhh, like that
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| Gonna get set up
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| Ooh, ooh, come on, are you movin' yet?
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| Step that, all my body’s gonna get that
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| Feelin' good, let’s do what your body should
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| I always wanna punch people wearing Von Dutch Trucker hats
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| Oh Lord, I hate 'em so much
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| But anyway let’s just get it back gutter
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| Dirty ass street shit make to me shutter
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| With anticipation gotta stop wastin time
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| Let’s go, we can all catch a case in
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| Federal court 'cause I’m better at sports
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| Spend the weekend in Wisconsin at a Cheddar Resort
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| Spend cheese and G’s with the greatest of ease
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| Rude girls, no, thank you, no please
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| Got no kinda manners, got no home training
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| Gettin' so wet, you would think it’s raining
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| Took a trip to Spain and points beyond
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| The prince took me to an opera but I just yawned
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| Spawn of the devil but I chill in Heaven
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| Get my forties and blunts from Seven Eleven
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| I wanna drop top, poppi poppi, chop shop, poppi poppi
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| Matt cock it back in the hotel lobby now
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| We rip shows in other continents
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| You rob Mickey D’s for condiments you should
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| Send your man my compliments
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| Your pillowcase is where the condom went
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| Are you tired? |
| You can catch your breath
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| Or there’s something you’d like to do instead
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| Uptown and downtown, ugly people, be quiet now
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| Everybody bring the ruckus
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| Corner crack slingers and redneck truckers
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| North Cackalacka South Cackalacka
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| Make some fuckin' noise for FannyPackalaca
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| Smack all you bitch ass backpacalackas
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| 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, comin atcha |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Feet and Hands , by - FannyPack. Song from the album See You Next Tuesday, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп