Lyrics:
pants-- An' he asks you for a date To the servicemen's dance! Suppose you don't wanna? What can you do? When a joker like that Got his hands
entertaining servicemen Of every code and stripe They're nothing but a threat To your good time The words, the words Come stumbling out In a snicker of a secret
Well, I was driving down the freeway When my car ran out of gas Pulled over to the station But I was afraid to ask The servicemen were yellow
Well, I was driving down the freeway When my car ran out of gas Pulled over to the station But I was afraid to ask The servicemen were yellow
down the freeway When my car ran out of gas. Pulled over to the station But I was afraid to ask. The servicemen were yellow And the gasoline was green.
down the freeway When my car ran out of gas. Pulled over to the station But I was afraid to ask. The servicemen were yellow And the gasoline was green.
Yes I have two tickets to the NAACP Awards The Image Awards Secret Servicemen, you can sit down My seats are in the front row, I hate to be so
was shakin' Down in the barroom it was Loaded with servicemen Elbow to elbow I said: "Scuze me blood, Just what is shakin'?" He say, "Girls
of our servicemen We need to pull up, push ups, ain't gon stop they deaths Jim don't gotta die man, gotta get that off my chest Dropping truth bombs cause
patrols Not to mention American servicemen Actually crossing the Mexican border to rape women or New York police officers gang raping a Haitian immigrant
slaves/// That built this great nation, reparations ignored to this day// Brave Servicemen and women ordered by elites sent to discover/ Land, but find PTSD
Meanwhile Juan Don from Venezuela gets a Wii We got veterans and servicemen out on the streets While the illegal aliens kickin' back with heat I ain't trying
a portrait out of frame And servicemen will follow closely Stop bath fix on a developing country Paid to look away But then again, your life's not much
lives are cast Curtained by the sun We follow the moons of old Burning, the temples left in ruin Burning Calling your servicemen to sword Obscure
the flames they had to race The volunteers the servicemen working side by side Fighting every outbreak like a roller coaster ride And the fire is burning
of Beasley Street Where the action isn't That's where it is State your position Vacancies exist In an X-certificate exercise Ex-servicemen excrete
at the shoot out, With secret servicemen, it's Ill Bill Non Phixion! We pop biscuits at these pop musicians - Claimin' hip-hop, you get your mop twisted!
The Same Song Servicemen are on their way Everybody needs them What you want to do now Is to catch the speeding train Where we all end up is moot
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