| Okay, bring whiskey, gunplay’s risky
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| Ocelot hoof raise, roof made tinny
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| Drop, lift suitcase, newspage lip read
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| You’ll say the worst and for her sakes hit me
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| Fake titty, scarred up nipple
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| Heavy on the arson riddle
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| Smoke cleared, goat beard, hard luck symbol
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| With his finger on the trigger of a lost scud missile
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| Trust triple, funds in the Caymans
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| Dr. Demento, drugs for the famous
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| Suicide hot line rushing to save him from the cops
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| And to stop him from punching the patients, rooms at the spa
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| Take what you need when you move modern rock
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| Savor the cream, cause your crew’s Haagen-Dazs
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| While I ride with the princess and Ookla the Mok
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| Who got the Mott’s? |
| Porkchop greasy
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| Keys to the Jeep and a Money in the sock and the Corn Cob leafy
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| Like war isn’t hell but it sure isn’t easy
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| Now let’s get the chains and the busted pipes
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| Cause they got planes and trucks to drive
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| And they get paid for us to die
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| But not enough for them to fight
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| We got spirit, no we don’t
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| But we got black eyes and a broken nose
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| And A Few Good Men but most of those
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| Are drunk in the back, singing «Row Your Boat»
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| Bring gravy, some say crazy
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| Balconies, blankets, unsafe baby
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| Hallowed be thy name of a one plane Navy
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| I once sold shirts at an upstate Macy’s
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| Unsavory, A six nation army vs. a Miller family
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| Old No. 7 in the pitcher brandy
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| Cause I never met a stripper that the liquor can’t feed
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| Dance freak, I roll with your head up
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| More CHiPs than the highway patrol pancetta
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| Trix for kids not So we only going in if we got coats and Berettas
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| Shock jockey, land speed drifter
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| Sipping on some syrup from the Ganges River
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| Kick it on the yellow bus, Andy’s bitter
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| Cause I’m giving it to hell and krumping Aunt Bee’s sister
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| Can’t live her, forfeit the front
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| And head for the hills where we’ll forest the funk
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| A bullet in his belly and a sword in his tongue
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| Like war isn’t easy but it sure isn’t fun
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| Now let’s get the chains and the busted pipes
|
| Cause they got planes and trucks to drive
|
| And they get paid for us to die
|
| But not enough for them to fight
|
| We got spirit, no we don’t
|
| But we got black eyes and a broken nose
|
| And A Few Good Men but most of those
|
| Are drunk in the back, singing «Row Your Boat» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pep Rally , by - Rob Sonic. Song from the album Alice in Thunderdome, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп