| Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
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| I said, change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
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| Thank you ladies and gentlemen
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| I’d like to introduce a little thing I like to call, the band
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| Let’s start with the man behind the piano
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| He’s a maestro, a master, a man of many melodies
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| Including the Melody who’s the hostess of the Daily Grill
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| If you lose your keys, he can find them!
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| He’s a «Prodigy», as in psychosomatic-addict insane
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| He’s sitting on his stool, Bobby Ricotta!
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| Thank you Bobby
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| And now on bass, he’s high-strung
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| He’s a stand-up guy. |
| He’s in an upright and locked position!
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| He knows the BASIC programming language!
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| He’s the low man on the totem pole!
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| He’s Deep Gordon Brie!
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| Danke, Gordon
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| And now on drums, on skins, on the trap-set, the cocktail kit, the thing you
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| that you hit with the thingies
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| He’s a slick click to pick with a stick!
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| He’s back with another one of them Block Rockin' Beats!
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| His middle name is Tom!
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| He’s «cymbal-ic»! |
| We’re talking «brush with greatness!»
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| He likes to bang the drum slowly if you know what I mean, and I think you do,
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| AM I RIGHT PEOPLE?!
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| Mr. Bobby Gouda!
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| Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
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| Change my pitch up, smack… bitch…up
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| Whoa, whoa
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| Whoa, whoa
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| Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
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| Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
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| Ouch! |