She's a leprachaun with mouth full of bile
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She's a movie lover, suckin cock in the isle
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It's like ten thousand dicks, when you're not really gay
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She's a Death Row contract, when you hate Dr. Dre
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And I think she's moronic
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Its a real pain
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When she hits the airwaves
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With a pack of lies
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That she wrote in the third grade
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She's a head of lies
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Thats you just cant shake
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And each single makes me sicker
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To imagine her naked
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I'm afraid to see (afraid to see)
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I took my suitcase
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And broke her left titty
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When I was at burny-grunmans
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Mastering my album
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I had the chance to burn her masters
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And I wish that i had
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Cause I think that she's moronic (blah blah blah)
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It's a pure pain
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When she hits the airwaves
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And I hope she dies
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And pour salt in her veins
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She's a head of lice
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That you just cant shake
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And each single makes me sicker
|
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She has a funny way
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Of processing her lower vocals through a stereo chorus end
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delay
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She has a funny funny way
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Of singing all of her bridges like the kibbde-kibbde-kibbde-kiddby
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count bass
|
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Isn't she moronic
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Dont you think
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Never once melodic
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And I really do think
|
|
And I think she's moronic
|
It's a real pain
|
When she hits the airwaves
|
With a pack of lies
|
That she wrote in the third grade
|
She's a head of lies
|
That you just cant shake
|
And each single makes me sicker
|
|
-----------------
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Moronic
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| Self |
