I'm not here to entertain you I'm here to meet my friend the Russian The Irish, the German, the Columbian I don't care how bad I f** up I care about how f**ed up I get I'm not your clown I'm your dealer And I'm holding three bindles of bullsh** And you're buyin' them 'cause you are addicted To the pure and totally uncut I'm not here to amuse you I'm here to abuse my body I'm here because old habits die hard And seriously, what else am I supposed to do? This isn't my job, my hobby, my habit It's sad, but this is my life Welcome to our mission statement Total self-debasement And not giving our all Watch us Fall! It's not that we don't pull it It's just that we only give about 60 or so percent Would you rather be fed bullsh** From some 20-something, makeup wearing, popstar "This one goes out to all our fans all over the world Without you, we'd just be us. So, I just wanna say thank you! We f**in' love you, Modesto!" f** you! And you're takin' it easy before the show So you won't lose your voice And disappoint your fans routine And you don't care about the children You don't even know them All you know is their money