She's a leprachaun with mouth full of bile
|
She's a movie lover, suckin cock in the isle
|
It's like ten thousand dicks, when you're not really gay
|
She's a Death Row contract, when you hate Dr. Dre
|
|
And I think she's moronic
|
Its a real pain
|
When she hits the airwaves
|
With a pack of lies
|
That she wrote in the third grade
|
She's a head of lies
|
Thats you just cant shake
|
And each single makes me sicker
|
|
To imagine her naked
|
I'm afraid to see (afraid to see)
|
I took my suitcase
|
And broke her left titty
|
When I was at burny-grunmans
|
Mastering my album
|
I had the chance to burn her masters
|
And I wish that i had
|
Cause I think that she's moronic (blah blah blah)
|
|
It's a pure pain
|
When she hits the airwaves
|
And I hope she dies
|
And pour salt in her veins
|
She's a head of lice
|
That you just cant shake
|
And each single makes me sicker
|
|
She has a funny way
|
Of processing her lower vocals through a stereo chorus end
|
delay
|
She has a funny funny way
|
Of singing all of her bridges like the kibbde-kibbde-kibbde-kiddby
|
count bass
|
|
Isn't she moronic
|
Dont you think
|
Never once melodic
|
And I really do think
|
|
And I think she's moronic
|
It's a real pain
|
When she hits the airwaves
|
With a pack of lies
|
That she wrote in the third grade
|
She's a head of lies
|
That you just cant shake
|
And each single makes me sicker
|
|
-----------------
|
Moronic
|
Self |