OK everybody, we're the hi-tech gurus,
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All the rage, always on the front page news,
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TV and video, here to go-go,
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On Radio PWEI, turn it on and turn it up high,
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Like a ten truck, don't give a fuck,
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And if you don't like the Poppies that's your hard luck...
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We cut and strut with military precision,
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All cards are marked; unanimous decision!
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It's finger-licking finger-clicking,
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My mike sounds nice and the beatbox ticking,
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Squeal like an eel, squirm like a worm,
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We're hot getting hotter...making ears burn!
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CHORUS
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Talking! Huh?
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Talking! What?
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Talking to you!
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We can rap we can sing a thing or two for you.
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We'll talk of anything , everything if you want, thing,
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The sky is the limit, the limit is the sky,
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Why? PWE...I
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Say don't worry, no hurry to fret,
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No jest, the best is yet to come
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And some are just dumb when they say it's no fun...
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They gotta learn, we're seriously delirious,
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the force is here with us...
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We ain't joking, we're just poking fun
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At those poking guns up each others asses
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At each and every turn.
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Rock so hard there's no time to roll
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When the Poppies are on patrol, on patrol, on patrol,
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CHORUS
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One-two check hi-tech in stereo, quadro,
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Anyway you go but loose, one-oh-oh-one uses,
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We got the juice to bruise the fuses
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The volume in this room is much too groomed,
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We need a big bad boom!
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Noise K.O.! Disco inferno! Hey ho...yo! Let's go!
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Gonna rock the show, blow the speakers, see them glow,
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So now you know it's not what you do,
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But the way that you do it,
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The speakers you blew but the way that you blew it,
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PWEI always knew it,
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We'll teach them all this song, it won't take long...
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Did it? We're through with it, hit it!
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Radio P.W.E.I.
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Pop Will Eat Itself |