I got the call Monday mornin'Sometime around 9 a.m.I felt down and out, left for dead,Lost without a friendNow how you live with yourselfWell child, I just don't knowBut as far as I'm concerned I think yaReally suck, you're rotten and you really blow I hate your gutsI wish that you was deadI hate your gutsYou're damn right that's what I saidI hate your gutsAnd I wish that you was deadI'd dig the holy myselfBut I'd rather run ya over with my truck instead Your first name should be assYour last name should be wipeBelieve me when I say thisCus I've been shit on more than twiceWell it's funny how it worksIt just seems to never endJust when ya think ya had enoughThey'll bend ya over and fuck ya once again ! I hate your gutsI wish that you was deadI hate your gutsYou're damn right that's what I saidI hate your gutsAnd I wish that you was deadI'd dig the hole myselfBut I'd rather run ya over with my truck instead What's mine is mineWhat's yours is mineAnd that's the way it's gonna beIf ya got a problem with that ya little bastardDon't ya come around to meNow I've been doin' this nowFor quite a many dayI'll rip off your nuts andShove them down your throat andHead off on my merry way Money-hungry and greedyChild you're just downright wrongYa pissed me off so many timesI just had to write this songEveryone's got their problemsAnd I know you sure got yoursBut you make livin' childSeem like a back breakin' chore I hate your gutsI wish that you was deadI hate your gutsYou're damn right that's what I saidI hate your gutsAnd I wish that you was deadI'd dig the hole myselfBut, I'd rather run ya over with my truck instead
Версия для печати