| Once there was a boy, quiet, shy
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| A chubby, sensitive, bookish little guy
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| He had a real name by which his folks knew him
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| But Flab Slab is how we’ll refer to him
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| A flab slab, how would we define that?
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| That’d be like a big flat thick slice of fat
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| And that’s the unfortunate nickname he got
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| From Randall, the nastiest kid in the sixth grade
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| Who preyed on Flab Slab’s weakness
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| Mocked his supposed obeseness
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| He would roll up on him at recess
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| And call him the name that made him feel deep shame and depressed
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| Flab Slab was Randall’s primary
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| Target, and it was quite scary
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| Eventually, he stopped going out to the playground
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| And just holed up in the library
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| Flab Slab
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| He mistreats you
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| You’re his victim
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| He’s your tormentor
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| How much
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| Will you stand for?
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| What do you stand for?
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| Frightened little awkward boy, sitting, looking at books
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| One day instead of playing outside
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| Flab Slab trudged glumly to the lib
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| Where displayed prominently he saw
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| A biography of Muhammad Ali
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| Flab Slab took one look at the book
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| And after one page he was hooked |
| He devoured it in a single sitting
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| And had an idea that sent his head spinning
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| When he got home, he asked Mom and Pops a question
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| Could they sign him up for boxing lessons?
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| He’d never shown any interests in sports before
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| But they said, «Yes of course, for sure»
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| And I’m not gonna go into a montage scene
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| Where he turns into a lean, mean, fighting machine
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| He just learned the basics of how to throw a punch
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| Which made his self-esteem grow a bunch (Hmph!)
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| Flab Slab
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| You have had it
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| You won’t stand it
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| Anymore
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| Take a stand and
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| Show 'em what you stand for
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| What do you stand for?
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| Fighting lessons and battle skills, learning about boxing
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| Weeks passed, Flab Slab biding his time
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| Training, remaining, and hiding until one faithful day
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| When the teacher said, «Okay, class, it’s time to go play»
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| Flab Slab’s heart was beating at a fast rate
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| As he walked out with the rest of his classmates
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| But he felt strong, no anxiety
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| As he went and he read quietly by a tree
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| Suddenly, a shadow darkened the page
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| Flab knew a battle was about to be waged |
| Randall knocked his novel in the dirt
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| Pulled him to his feet by the collar of his shirt
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| Kids gathered 'round like they do when a fight occurs
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| Randall said «I'm gonna punch out those lights of yours»
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| Flab thought of the things he had learned
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| In the ring, took a swing, and ding ding ding
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| Randall was a goner, Flab Slab stood there dominantly
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| And as calm as could be
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| He said «My moniker’s an honor to me
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| Cause it means I’m like Muhammad Ali»
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| Look closely, you’ll see it’s the initials of
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| Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee
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| Flab Slab
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| That name you hated
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| You reclaimed it
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| You made it yours
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| And now we
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| Know what you stand for
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| And so we’re finished, later, adios, bye
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| Sayounara, love, and, BREAK! |