Jon Spencer Blues Explosion - Rapp lyrics

She said She said She said She said Don't worry I've got the bread Check's in the mail Full speed ahead Check's in the mail I won't come in your mouth Got some great gigs for you way down south Trust me you'll go far Trust me you'll drive far Drive motherf**ers! You got great shows But nobody knows Joke's on you HAHAHAHAHA She said She said Spoiled brats green behind the knees Need their mom to wipe their nose Every time they sneeze That's a f**ing rock star when They had a taste of fame They don't understand They got to play the goddamn game And then she said She said She said Yeah you f**ing rock stars Rooting out that groupie head APB on the mic Each night for a bed Where's your f**ing 8-ball And presidential suite? At the Parc Hotel And a sports car with 2 seats She said She said You're fired you lousy bum You're having too much fun And then we said Hey wait a minute We ain't no f**ing rock stars What the hell? Honey it's not true We live on Frito-Lay We sleep out in the snow And we don't get paid As far as groupies go We're too tired to get laid We do it cuz we love punk rock There's no cash to be made We ain't no sleazy sellouts We really hate LA She said She said I'm not smoking crack