Lyrics:
thirteen year old boobs
I'd hang out by the junior
High like my dad does
Tom: Hey
You know what I learned in fifth grade?
Mark: What's that
Your dad has
wrong with Santa Claus?]
[Bob: There's nothing wrong with Santa Claus, but...]
[Anything Muppet #1: Don't you like Christmas?]
[Bob: Oh, I love
One, two
One, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback
One, two
One, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback
One, two
One, two, three
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants or silverback
fuckin’ with it
Pockets fat these racks can’t fit in
Hmm
Don’t be too pissed by what I m spittin’
Cuz I kept
[HOOK ]
Bob and Weavin’ Bob and Weavin’
One, two
One, two, three, yeah
Yeah, inslumnational, underground
Thunder pounds when I stomp the ground (woo)
Like a million elephants
But first, I'd like you to meet my friend Bob (huh?)
Say hi, Bob (hi, Bob) Bob's thirty and still lives with his mom
And he don't got a job, 'cause
But first, I'd like you to meet my friend Bob (huh?)
Say hi, Bob (hi, Bob) Bob's thirty and still lives with his mom
And he don't got a job, 'cause
the only fat-lipped bass
My flipper -vroom! -peel off
Eating flounder
Sebastian's like some bath salts
Munching on his bones
Looking at him like "It's yo'
peeled off
I'm the only fat-lipped bass, my flipper, vroom, peel off
Eating flounder, Sebastian's like some bath salts
Munching on his bones, looking
nigga's lung like he was a bandit
Vas-y suce mon flow, vas-y suce mon bob, vas-y suce mon équipe
Vas-y suce mon flow, vas-y suce mon bob, vas-y suce mon
don't care if she naughty
Hop on that dick and she ride like a Audi
Got my pocket fat, Chris Farley
Yeah im smokin' fat, Bob Marley
Like my bitch, ass fat
for this
I swear I get it off the love
Louisiana nigga you can tell
By my mothafuckin' grammar
I swear I got 3 hoes with
Me just like I'm Santa
These
game to me
Back then, you woke up to the sound of "I Saw Mama Kissing Santa"
Made you remenisce on the old fashion Christmas days
Gifts, miss a fat
many cookies and Taco Bell
I hope he takes a shit and dies
Fat-ass! Fuck Santa Claus
Fuck Santa Claus
Merry Christmas
Let’s sing like Diana Ross
While we
out on this fun Christmas tune called Santa's Karaoke. Cowritten by Tori Martin, Kirsti Manna, and Bill DiLuigi,
the song is an homage to a very famous
you're offended by the lyrics you're a bit of a bitch
I hate Christmas
Bitter and a bit of a Grinch
I hate Christmas
Slap at Santa see if he flinch
I hate
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
ourselves
We can't babble no more than we can bob our head offbeat
Nimrod by the time we forty cause we can't get off meat
While we ask no reason for
Santa is here
Got cookies in your beard
Hand me some milk
Jimmy Christmas Cheer (Introducing Ben M to the microphone)
Yo, Santa
Uh, I like, Santa
Uh, so
good child in the world would have known these men by heart
They're kind like Santa Clause and Doctor Phrase and they'll teach you english and to behave
And ironically, when you do it that way
More people end up saved
I paved my way by scrapin' it
You ain't never seen a nigga
Like me, if you did
I guarantee they was
eat a big dick, yeah suck a fat dick, take a black dick, shove it in your ass dick, your face smells like a dick, and swells like a dick, I've seen
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