| Uh oh oh hey I didn’t see you there
|
| Welcome to sunny Wells, Maine
|
| Pass me the blunt
|
| (yeah I got a boner, bitch)
|
| Back when I was sipping Sunny D
|
| Watching «Harry and the Hendersons»
|
| Oshkosh jeans, and the Dimetapp medicine
|
| Life was good and oh so simple
|
| No girls, no weed, no police, no pimples
|
| And now it’s Red Stripe 'til I can’t stand up
|
| I don’t bluff, I’m in Maine like horse dandruff
|
| I could burn my mouth and still not suck
|
| With the bank account negative a million bucks
|
| And even when I’m drunk I spit resilient stuff
|
| And I date a Kennebunker who gives brilliant fucks
|
| Similarly early life made me as such
|
| Heyo what? |
| I’ve been bonkers since Tonka trucks
|
| Is he Spizzy? |
| is he nuts? |
| The locals are unsure
|
| No fur, just ash stains on the sweatshirt
|
| Who besides Spose had a flow so pure
|
| Before the Red Sox reversed that curse in '04, baby
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you’re with me or you just got meds for your STDs say
|
| Fuck it
|
| One life to live and one million more nose rips to give say
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you ain’t got paid or you ain’t got laid in one hundred days say
|
| Fuck it
|
| Spizzy Spose, you’re damn right, I keep it bimpin'
|
| White dude, Nikes
|
| Suburban living where the blunts half-pipes be
|
| Quite abundant, night life unlively
|
| Glove compartment got Febreze and Visine
|
| VCR-TV combo not widescreen
|
| And Mike V hustles trees unidly
|
| 12 year olds fake IDs
|
| Rich dads keep their yards tidy
|
| Shall I proceed? |
| (mmhmm) alrighty
|
| We got wealth disproportionate
|
| Teen suicide, no need for Kevorkian
|
| Dope people mixed with should’ve-been-abortioned kids
|
| Wells, Maine from the casket to the orphanage
|
| And back again, I’m from the place where the wives scream
|
| Redneck fists aren’t soft like Ice Cream
|
| Police lights shine bright white
|
| Every night like Jesus Christ light beams
|
| And the radio sucks, so turn up the Outkast
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you’re with me or you just got meds for your STDs say
|
| Fuck it
|
| One life to live and one million more nose rips to give say
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you ain’t got paid or you ain’t got laid in one hundred days say
|
| Fuck it
|
| Spizzy Spose, you’re damn right, I keep it bimpin'
|
| I’ve been dope with these rants
|
| Since everybody rocked JNCO pants
|
| Justin, JC, and Lance used to blare
|
| At every Junior High Dance
|
| While my mom was in the basement watering plants
|
| With the xenon lights, rural life ain’t polite
|
| Welcome to the jungle, stash the weed by the grundle
|
| My buddy mumbles that the cop probably knows his uncle
|
| Get it dropped like a fumble
|
| I said, «that shit’s bimpin'»
|
| 5'8″ eyes dilate when I’m baked
|
| Guidos in tuxedos buy steaks at high rates
|
| For Christ sake, American parents are irate
|
| Cause they’ve all seen their daughters gyrate on Myspace
|
| I’m on the couch, passed out, being an ass clown
|
| But they say that Spose kid is dope with his mouth
|
| In fact the illest illestest since social studies syllabus
|
| Before Islamic militants were killing us
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you’re with me or you just got meds for your STDs say
|
| Fuck it
|
| One life to live and one million more nose rips to give say
|
| Fuck it
|
| If you ain’t got paid or you ain’t got laid in one hundred days say
|
| Fuck it
|
| Spizzy Spose, you’re damn right, I keep it bimpin'
|
| Can’t afford a hat, I wear a bucket
|
| Kicked out my mom’s house, fuck it
|
| On the mic I used to be sucking, reluctant
|
| But not no more
|
| Fucked a lot of girls, but not no whores
|
| Freestyle, used to kick it F4
|
| I can kick it up in my mom’s door
|
| At my dad’s house, I got a bad mouth
|
| From the Wells, Maine area
|
| Sicker than malaria
|
| Cause mass hysteria in your area
|
| Fucking coming out your stereo
|
| When you’re bumpin'
|
| I mean something like that, bimpin' |