You wanted the worst, you got the worst
The one, the only, Limp Bizkit
We could've stopped, we could've stopped
You wanted the best?
Then don't get the fucking Backstreet Boys CD!
'Cause in this house it's Limp motherfucking Bizkit!
Balls made of steel, balls made of steel
But don't kick me in the nuts though
Limp Bizkit's in the house!
Limp Bizkit's in the house!
Limp Bizkit's in the house!
Limp Bizkit's in the house!
You ain't shit, haha!
You ain't shit, haha!
You ain't shit, haha!
You ain't shit motherfucker!
You fuck, you ain't shit!
[Radio Sucks]
[Matt Pinfield & Fred Durst]
Hey, It's the bald man here and
I'm here to tell you why the new Limp Bizkit CD is so important
That's because CD's like this one spare you
From all the Chart-topping, Teeny-Boppin'
Disposable happy horse shit that
Brings up the bile from the back of my neck
I have no time or tolerance for all the shitty wack acts like that
I wouldn't piss on their CD's to put out a fire
And I'm Tired of all the lame-ass, tame-ass
Pre-fabricated, sorry excuses for singers and musicians
Who don't even write their own songs
What the world needs now is a musical revolution
We need some rock, we need something that has balls
We need something with substance, depth, something with soul some edge, some passion, some power
Shit, if it's gonna be mellow, fuck, man
It better have something, it better mean something!
I'm telling you, if you gotta hit 'em with something hard
You gotta stick 'me with something limp, like Limp Bizkit
I'm so fucking tired with that shit
I'm hearing on the radio, radio sucks!
The same fuckin songs over, and over again!
All the weak ones, all that disposable crap
That isn't gonna matter in 3 months, it's just shit, It's crap, Fred
Fred I'm telling you there's nothing, but shit goin' on
And we need some new music
W-Wha-What about Limp Bizkit?
Limp Bizkit is fuckin cool, you guys are cool
The new record's great, but fuck all that other shit!
I'm so sick of all that weak shit that's takin up space on the charts. Fuck that shit, Fred, I'm Outta' here!
Fuck, dude, Fuckin' Pinfield is pissed
Oh, man I gotta go find that bald bastard
Hey, Matt! Matt!
[The Mind of Les]
[Les Claypool]
Hit me
Fire cracker
So there you go
Fifteen of your hard earned dollars
Right out the window
Most expensive piece of plastic
I've ever come across
Fifteen dollars, fifteen dollars
On a shoddy piece of plastic
There is it Limp Bizkit in all it's glory
Fred Durst, the man, the myth
The compulsive masturbator
You love him, you hate him
You love to hate him, Hello
Once when I was afraid to speak
When I was just a lad
My poppy gave my nose a tweak
And told me I was bad
Then I learned a brilliant word
Saved my aching nose
The biggest word you've ever heard
And this is how it goes
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Even though he sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Ah, those were the days
I don't know, you got any more of that
So, what did you think
You were getting a Celine Dion record?
No, no, no young bucky
You laughed, you cried
You just kissed your
Fifteen bucks goodbye
Limp Bizkit, I don't think so
Fred Durst, I don't know
But what the hell, I got paid
Goodbye now
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
