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Albums:

The All-American Rejects (The All-American Rejects) · All-American Rejects [Bonus CD Sampler] (The All-American Rejects) · The All-American Rejects (The All-American Rejects) · The All-American Rejects (The All-American Rejects) · The All-American Rejects (The All-American Rejects) · All-American Rejects [Bonus Track] (The All-American Rejects) · The All-American Rejects (The All-American Rejects) · Duck Stab (The Residents) · Beauty Stab (ABC) · Duck Stab (The Residents) – and 90 other albums »


stab you in the back 
I just like some blood 
It's cool if you can't hit me back
Give me your car 
I'll drive it off a bridge 
I can't return your
and back row's untamed
Crucial, using maximum amount of brain
Grinding the edge of my axe to stay awake
Lanes shifted, stay at a distance
Half my with
nice but nigga that's life
Black black on the scratch, no tradin back
2000 'Llac, can you fuck with that?
Me, Mack, 40, Shot and Bosko
All strapped
Call to the darkness, the wrath of the desert, skulls piled in 
A row, why didn't you see? carry me back, drag me by foot 
Saving my life, slitting
her neck by a hook
Didn't realize it was my grandmother 'til I checked her pocketbook
Fuckin' with the white boys got me back on crack
Better explain
I got bobby by the pound Whitney by the key DJ Screw by the gallon b**** the game belong to me 

I got money on my beeper dead trees on my phone
this American dream for Cuban links and Lamborghinis
Talkin' ballin' supreme, look in my eyes
And you can see the pain I'm feelin' inside, look in
Bobby by the pound, Whitney by the key
DJ Screw by the gallon, bitch the game belong to me

I got money on my beeper, dead trees on my phone
They call me
society down for life foul & trife
Ill Bill dirty rotten imbecil down to fight
Give me my taxes back money god's a liar
Speak truth to deaf americans like
this American dream for Cuban links and Lamborghinis
Talkin' ballin' supreme, look in my eyes
And you can see the pain I'm feelin' inside, look in
of the V.S.O.P. Rémy
Converstions as I tugs on your bikini
Got to get it, cause I've never had
Takes the party back to my pad, color me bad
Oops... I swoops up in
I got bobby by the pound Whitney by the key DJ Screw by the gallon b**** the game belong to me 

I got money on my beeper dead trees on my phone
intimate with earths filthiness
Where melodies are dark and human?s are used as instruments
Where drugs and booze are often abused
Best friends stab backs
didn't buy my C-D
I'd stab the revolution in their neck with an I-V
See me, own the world, I'd give it back to the poor
I'd give a last name to every
barely make it, we got crazy cash 
On the movie set me and my homie Baby Bash 
Got your girl waitin to get her world shakin 
At the Grand American givin
"My line of work is considered by some to be a... 
A tumor on society, be careful Mr. Magenta there are benign tumors, 
And there are others, that
And stab me in my back, when I turn around
And I can feel hateful eyes, watching plotting to get me
They under estimate me, hate me
But never approach, cause
efforts are negated by the passive observers.

*
They spend days before the T.V. set so burned out,
Is it any wonder they've lost all sense of vision