C.O.T.Y. Songtext

von Funkoars

I slide off that bar stool, drive in the car pool,
In the bicycle lane next to high schools.
Side, swipe cyclists,
Buggin' but fuckin',
I'm buckled up and, trouble is double,
And I'm fuckin' with any and many hennies I got.
Look,
No money to show, but show money,
Gotta a lot of bottles on my shelf baby,
Help yourself, I'm drunk drivin' on the highway to hell.
I like to, incite violence,
Try fightin', Die tryin', Life's slidin'.
The bright light's of the ambo's my cammo,
This liquid ammo,
Gotta mother fucker feelin' like Rambo.
I'm the Boston Strangler,
See me in your mother's Jeep Wrangler.
The new step daddy's a rapper,
Bangin' the back of her.
I'm back stabbin' her,
Up in the rear,
I've gotta thank God that I've got it,
The Cunt Of The Year.

And if you see me looking fucking mad, (I-I hate cunts)
And if you see me looking fucking mad, (The cu-cu-cunt of the year)
I hate - I hate - I-I hate Cunts,
Life peaked, and down hill at eight months,
And if you see me looking fucking mad,
It's cause I'm fucking mad.

First and foremost, I'd like to thank the outstanding citizens,
For all I've done to make me look like a cunt to live with.
At your party, in your jewelery box,
Takin' all the gold.
N' downstairs, drunk as hell,
Pissing all up on your toilet bowl.
The first cat to cry poor when it's my round,
So I drink for free at the club,
'Till your broke then I bounce.
Man, that sounds nice, don't it?
Full time scum bag,
Move up on your girl, and use your best shirt as my cum rag.
I'm quick to snake and make to fuck up his whole game,
Then drag it back to mine,
Like a caveman on the first train.
And when you mackin' a bitch,
I'm rubbin' out an easy, one in your cupboard,
Get my cock out where it ain't wanted.
The problem is, I'm an inconsiderate fuck-wit,
With chicks that try to nut quick,
To avoid that cunt lick.
The funny shit is even though I'ma prick,
Then next time we're at the base, you still buy me a drink.

And if you see me looking fucking mad, (I-I hate cunts)
And if you see me looking fucking mad, (The cu-cu-cunt of the year)
I hate - I hate - I-I hate Cunts,
Life peaked, and down hill at eight months,
And if you see me looking fucking mad,
It's cause I'm fucking mad.

Pissin' everywhere but the pisser.
Sippin' spilt liquor off the floor,
With a crazy straw from the day before.
I'm the type big into binge drinkin',
Crip limpin in the club, with a smuggy sixxer now.
This can't be the flavor of the month,
Do the the sooks cry foul like the flavour of the, ha,
Fuck-ity-fuck yes,
Swear like a sailor,
And I take shots at death with a credit check chaser.
The girls want to be a princess for the night,
But the idea dies like Princess Di,
When Charles, Handy-man with a Handy-Cam,
Takin' off a beach bunny panties in a sandy van
Damn, black out, then I'm right back,
Wakin' up drunk,
Dunkin' down breakfast nightcaps.
Girl's like, "Fuck you!",
I'm like, "Fuck me!",
So patriotic put the fuckin' "Cunt" into country.

Put your hands together for the, (Cunt of the year)
(All right now ladies),
What I want you to do is take your shirt off for the, (Cunt of the year)
(Listen),
Keep the drinks comin' for the, (Cunt of the year)
(Look),
And grab your breasts 'cause this is for the, (Cunt of the year)