CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : War Stories
Cease and desist, the owner's sign said "Out of Business"
Dimwits still lined up the company store with scrip
Big Jus, how it dipped, pop back up and spin your block
And gaffle whips, a limerick’ll get the plantation lit
Look around, bush too thick to run, don’t play dumb
Bail drop the bonds, they’ll wait for you to jump
Scavenger hunt with the mutts out front
Musical chairs to a dump truck backing up
Greyhound bus when the dogs rush
The room hushed when his Timbs hit the sawdust
Feel it in the air like a Confederate flag
Somewhere pulled off getting gassed
And I seen it in the truck cab, I laughed
Thought I was tripping out here, I’m glad
Pedal to the petrol mashed, mortar and pestle
Pesto go in the bag, the bag gone in the drag
Like every deadbeat dad, his excuse?
He better than the one he had
Even the haters ain’t want it to be this bad
Donovan McNabb, even his neighbors pretended to be sad
Even the prosecutor considered dropping the whole thing
But then she said, "nah", a stroke of the pen
A flick of the wrist, a shiv in the neck instead of the ribs
Joseph Kane when they led him to the ditch
I used to think I was better than this, I was remiss
I was impressed how they boiled it down to a gif
I was shipwrecked but had enough for a spliff
I was depressed watching old men bicker
Over musty old beef from ’96, dusty old bricks
Two-hundred and forty some months
And to think you ain’t learned sh*t
(You ain't learned sh*t, you ain't learned sh*t)
Dimwits still lined up the company store with scrip
Big Jus, how it dipped, pop back up and spin your block
And gaffle whips, a limerick’ll get the plantation lit
Look around, bush too thick to run, don’t play dumb
Bail drop the bonds, they’ll wait for you to jump
Scavenger hunt with the mutts out front
Musical chairs to a dump truck backing up
Greyhound bus when the dogs rush
The room hushed when his Timbs hit the sawdust
Feel it in the air like a Confederate flag
Somewhere pulled off getting gassed
And I seen it in the truck cab, I laughed
Thought I was tripping out here, I’m glad
Pedal to the petrol mashed, mortar and pestle
Pesto go in the bag, the bag gone in the drag
Like every deadbeat dad, his excuse?
He better than the one he had
Even the haters ain’t want it to be this bad
Donovan McNabb, even his neighbors pretended to be sad
Even the prosecutor considered dropping the whole thing
But then she said, "nah", a stroke of the pen
A flick of the wrist, a shiv in the neck instead of the ribs
Joseph Kane when they led him to the ditch
I used to think I was better than this, I was remiss
I was impressed how they boiled it down to a gif
I was shipwrecked but had enough for a spliff
I was depressed watching old men bicker
Over musty old beef from ’96, dusty old bricks
Two-hundred and forty some months
And to think you ain’t learned sh*t
(You ain't learned sh*t, you ain't learned sh*t)
