Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song To Victory, artist - JT Music.
Date of issue: 29.06.2017
Song language: English
To Victory |
This ballad is dedicated to the brave men and women |
Who triumphantly traverse the treacherous terrain |
Who fearlessly face unfathomable foes |
Who conquer incalculable chaos |
And all for what… |
For the glory… |
Of VICTORY |
Recently divorced, I’m a father of one |
I have a couple kids but they’re both with their mom |
Luckily this weekend I got custody of my son |
I took that fucker for a ride, cuz he wanted some fun |
«Hey daddy, daddy, I wanna go faster!» |
I’m sweating my ass off, shut up you little bastard |
«I'm telling mom cuz you let me get stabbed» |
Just another fun weekend with dad |
Who’s hoppin' over obstacles, smashin' through glass |
Bouncin' all around like a Kardashian’s ass |
Call me Pogo Pete, I’m screamin' YOLO, SKEET |
Better clear a path if I’m hoppin' down your street |
I’m like a homicidal-kangaroo-jackhammer-man |
Old ladies, little babies, doesn’t matter where I land |
I got a sword in my ass, and this shit hurts |
But I always wear a helmet, safety first |
My Happy Wheels keep turnin' |
I’ll be flyin' at the speed of light |
How I love the smell of rubber burnin' |
Push my limit cuz I’m ready to die |
Get out of my way, my agenda matters |
Ate 5 Big Macs and I’ve got a full bladder |
Cruisin' through Wal-Mart, I’m the quickest |
Only obstacle I’ve got is my diabetes |
Keep your distance bitch, haven’t showered in years |
Runnin' on Doritos and a couple of beers |
They say my blood pressure’s gonna number my days |
You think obesity kills? I say obesity SLAYS |
That verse was phat, talk about a segue |
I ride around on my energy-efficient segway |
Meeting at twelve, and I can’t be late |
I work in HR, and I mediate |
Just a day at the office, but it’s kind of a drag |
My best friends — left hand — and a nudey mag |
I love my corporate lifestyle, I’m kinda nerdy |
Won’t stop this office freak from ridin' dirty |
My Happy Wheels are a-rollin' |
Even with this harpoon deep in my ass |
Love the carnage, body parts are a-bowlin' |
I’m hangin' on, my limbs are barely attached |
Throw your child in a blender |
Laughing as he’s dismembered |
What’s the point of this mutilation |
Crash and tumble through gauntlets |
Tell me why do we want this |
My masochistic jubilation |
I’ll be quick to turn you into mince meat |
I’m the sickest lawn mower that you ever did meet |
Landscapin' faces, I make it personal |
You stood me up on prom night, and I won’t be merciful |
(BITCH) |
Nothin' runs like a Deere, except you |
I love the smell of fresh cut grass and death too |
I’m armored by fat, don’t think that you can kill me |
Hope you brought an appetite, I’m makin' human chili |
I smell like feces and I’m really baldin' |
No need for sneakers, I got wheels and rockets |
I rock the cosmos like I’m Steven Hawking |
Not handicapped, but I don’t feel like walkin' |
I’m on welfare, cashin' checks |
On crack and meth while I’m crackin' heads |
Haven’t been the same since I got back from 'Nam |
Just like Rambo — (If he was a bum!) |
My Happy Wheels are spinnin' |
Arms and legs and heads keep on flyin' by |
Like a monkey through the jungle swingin' |
Covered up in blood, and I’m in my prime |
It’s not bad, just a flesh wound |
But I’ll probably be dead soon |
Someone oughtta take a screenshot of me |
I’ll go out like a rockstar |
Body parts will be long gone |
Just as long as I get to Victory |