| We’re all a bunch of brothers livin’in a cool way
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| Along with six million others in this place called L.A.
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| L.A. is the place, sets my mind ablaze
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| For me, it’s a race through a cotton pickin’maze
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| The town makes me jump, it’s got a bunch of bad chicks
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| Well sure, it’s got some chumps but I still get my kicks
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| My body loves to scrump when I lick the ripe pick
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| Like a come on a thumb
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| Poppin’hump, hump, hump
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| Pop out
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| The action never stops, I’m as wild as can be
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| 'Cos I’m shooting for the top and my best friend is Flea
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| Oom Chucka Willy knew the balls to pop
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| But he never met the Tree so he never be-bopped out hop!
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| Antwan the Swan, from the pretty fish pond
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| Was a bad mother jumper, you could tell he was strong
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| He war a cold paisley jacket and a hellified hat
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| And between his legs was a sweat young lass
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| He threw a hundred women up against the wall
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| And he swore to fear that he’d love 'em all
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| By the time he got to ninety nine, he had to stop
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| Because that’s when he thought that he heard a phone
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| Last night and the night before, I heard a Fop outside, then I came in doors
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| Freak out!
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| Now that I told you a little something about the Flea
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| A little something about the Tree, a little something about me I can’t leave you hangin’but my man Shermzy, he swings the yang,
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| he bangs the yang
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| And now, it’s time to hear him do his playin', you better be burning Sherman!
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| We’re all a bunch of brothers livin’in a cool way
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| Along with six million others in this place called L.A.
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| Step out! |