Rob Sonic - Pep Rally lyrics

Verse 1: Okay, bring whiskey, gunplay's risky Ocelot hoof raise, roof made tinny Drop, lift suitcase, newspage lip read You'll say the worst and for her sakes hit me Fake titty, scarred up nipple Heavy on the [artwork] arson riddle Smoke cleared, goat beard, hard luck symbol With his finger on the trigger of a lost scud missile Trust triple, funds in the Caymans Dr. Demento, d** for the famous Suicide hot line rushing to save him from the cops And to stop him from punching the patients [SunSaver], rooms at the spa Take what you need when you move modern rock Savor the cream, cause your crew's Haagen-Dazs While I ride with the princess and Ookla the Mok Who got the Mott's? Porkchop greasy Keys to the Jeep and a [school bought CB] Money in the sock and the Corn Cob leafy Like war isn't hell but it sure isn't easy Hook: Now let's get the chains and the busted pipes Cause they got planes and trucks to drive And they get paid for us to die But not enough for them to fight We got spirit, no we don't But we got black eyes and a broken nose And A Few Good Men but most of those Are drunk in the back, singing “Row Your Boat” Verse 2: Bring gravy, some say crazy Balconies, blankets, unsafe baby Hallowed be thy name of a one plane Navy I once sold shirts at an upstate Macy's Unsavory, [Miniman me] A six nation army vs. a Miller family Old No. 7 in the pitcher brandy Cause I never met a stripper that the liquor can't feed Dance freak, I roll with your head up More CHiPs than the highway patrol pancetta Trix for kids not [for bovine leather] So we only going in if we got coats and Berettas Shock jockey, land speed drifter Sipping on some syrup from the Ganges River Kick it on the yellow bus, Andy's bitter Cause I'm giving it to hell and krumping Aunt Bee's sister Can't live her, forfeit the front And head for the hills where we'll forest the funk A bullet in his belly and a sword in his tongue Like war isn't easy but it sure isn't fun Hook: Now let's get the chains and the busted pipes Cause they got planes and trucks to drive And they get paid for us to die But not enough for them to fight We got spirit, no we don't But we got black eyes and a broken nose And A Few Good Men but most of those Are drunk in the back, singing “Row Your Boat”