Lyrics Piggly Wiggly - Retard-O-Bot

Piggly Wiggly

Gotta go slow
Gotta go slow
Pig without wings
Is just another pig
And a prick that’s not hard
Is just another dick
Open real wide and in goes my fist
Wasn’t that just so delicious
Peddling backwards, great exercise
Monopoly’s a way of life for some
That perfect car, the house, the pool
That fucking girl from high school
The spoon, the spoon
Oh, fucking christ, the spoon
Cutting lines
Oh god, it’s finally time to party
Dirty (x8)
Delivery, I’m fucking starving
Sounds good, let’s get it going
Bury me up bread and a rocket
Expect no delays
Topsy turvy
Driving on the curvy
To the sounds of
Mail boxes knocking over
Help my aim, oh please
In a search, maybe
Don’t tell anyone where I be
My sticky situations
Hiding, I’m flying
I keep them
From you
Fucking motherfuckers
Fucking motherfucker
A pig without wings
Is just another pig
And a prick that’s not hard
Is just another dick
Nickles and dimes and pennies count
That’s like sixteen cents to go toward a blow job
Know you’ve all been there before,
Fell face first, god makes you fall from grace
Sick, up late, don’t call me names
What’s all this shit on my face
The spoon, the spoon
Oh, fucking christ, the spoon
Cutting lines
Oh god, it’s finally time to party
Dirty (x8)
Delivery, I’m fucking starving
Sounds good, let’s get it going
Bury me up bread and a rocket
Expect no delays
Topsy turvy
Driving on the curvy
To the sounds of
Mail boxes knocking over
Help my aim, oh please
In a search, maybe
Don’t tell anyone where I be
My sticky situations
Hiding, I’m flying
I keep them
From you
Fucking motherfuckers
Fucking motherfucker
A pig without wings
Is just another pig
And a prick that’s not hard
Is just another dick
Smiling kids make me think
Do I have the right
To swing from the monkey bars
Candy hearts and lucky charms
Where the fuck is my delivery
At the playground going for a swim in my cereal
The spoon, the spoon
Oh, fucking christ, the spoon
Cutting lines
Oh god, it’s finally time to party
Dirty (x8)
Delivery, I’m fucking starving
Sounds good, let’s get it going
Bury me up bread and a rocket
Expect no delays
Topsy turvy
Driving on the curvy
To the sounds of
Mail boxes knocking over
Help my aim, oh please
In a search, maybe
Don’t tell anyone where I be
My sticky situations
Hiding, I’m flying
I keep them
From you
Fucking motherfuckers