Lyrics The Entourage - Screeching Weasel

The Entourage

Here they are, the entourage
It doesn’t matter what your job is
You’d all be right here sucking up in any case
Baby Fat let me tell you what your problem is
Oh I can’t wait, this’ll be great
Please proceed
You just don’t know when to back off
And someday somebody’s gonna get sick of it
What!
Beat up a guy in a wheelchair
You don’t have to squash a cockroach to kill it
You bloated garden gnome
You think you can huff and puff and blow my house down
Well have at it
But you’ll answer to Tommy Swank
I’m his right hand man
You’re just the drunk he gave a job to out of pity
Oh here we go
Hey Queeg, still selling weed
What’s it like to go doctor shopping
Every week
For your oxy contin
That big Swank must keep you around
To serve as a personal circus clown
Cause now
You couldn’t tech your way out of a paper bag
Stompanato the brain dead lush
Need another barrel of bourbon there, Rummy?
Holy cow, now he’s shaking and sweating
Hey, but he’s good at pretending it’s funny
Now here comes Jerry Japan
What cruel prick let you pick out that name
You poor son of a bitch
You really think it sounds cool
Remember when your teenage girlfriend dumped you cause the zoloft left you
impotent?
But you’re a badass now Aintcha Jerry don’t worry nobody thinks you’re a fairy
Oh no
Because they don’t think about you at all
Oh no
Because they don’t think about you at all