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You wanted the worst?
You got the worst
The one, the only
Limp Bizkit
You can push stop
You can push stop
You wanted the best?!
Then go get the fuckin' Backstreet Boys CD
'Cause in this house, it's Limp motherfuckin' Bizkit
Balls made of steel
Balls made of steel
But don't kick me in the nuts, though
Limp Bizkit's in the house
Limp Bizkit's in the house
Limp Bizkit's in the house
Limp Bizkit's in the house
And you ain't shit
Ha ha ha ha ha
You ain't shit!
Ha ha ha ha
Ha ha ha
You ain't shit!
Ha ha ha
Ha ha ha ha ha!
You ain't shit motherfucker!
You fuck!
You ain't shit!

Hey, it's the bald man
And I'm here to tell you why the new Limp Bizkit album's so important
That's because CD's like this will spare you from all the chart-topping
Teenie-bopping, disposable Happy horse shit
That brings up the bile from the back of my neck
I have no time or tolerance for all shitty whack acts like that
I wouldn't piss on their CD's to put out a fire
And I'm tired off all those lame-ass, tame-ass
Pre-fabricated sorry excuses for singers
And musicians who don't even write their own songs
What the world needs now is a musical revolution
We need some rock, we need somethin' ass-boss!
We need something with substance, with depth
Something with soul, some edge, some passion, some power!
Shit, if it's gonna be mellow
Fuck, man, it better have somethin'
It better mean somethin' I'm tellin' you, you gotta hit 'em with somethin' hard
You gotta stick 'em with somethin' limp, like Limp Bizkit
I'm so fuckin' tired of this shit that I'm hearing on the radio
Radio sucks!
The same fuckin' songs over and over again
All the week ones, all that disposable crap that isn't gonna matter in three months
It's just shit
(Hey, Matt, calm down) It's crap, Fred
Fred, I'm tellin' you, there's nothin' but shit going on
And we need some new music
(But, well, what about Limp Bizkit?)
Limp Bizkit is fucking cool
You guys are cool, the new record is great
But fuck all that other shit
I'm so sick of all that week shit that's taking space on the charts
(Hey, Matt, calm down, man)
Fuck this shit, I'm outta here
(Fuck, dude)
(Fucking Pinfield is pissed!)
(Oh man I gotta go find that bald bastard)
(Hey Matt, Matt!)

Hit me! Firecracker
So there you go
Fifteen of your hard-earned dollars right out the window
Most expensive piece of plastic I've ever come across
Fifteen dollars
Fifteen dollars on a shiny piece of plastic
There it is
Limp Bizkit, in all it's glory
Fred Durst, the man, the myth, the compulsive masturbater
You love him, you hate him, you love to hate him
Hello!
Ha ha!
Once, when I was afraid to speak
When I was just a lad
My poppy gave my nose a tweek
And told me I was bad
And then I learned a brilliant word
That saved my achin' nose
The biggest word you've ever heard
And this is how it goes
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Even though the sound of it
Is something quite atrocious
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Ahh, those were the days
I dunno
You got any more of that?
I'm smoking 'em in a minute
So, what did you think, you were getting a Celine Dion record?
No, no, no young bucky! You laughed, you cried
You just kissed your fifteen bucks goodbye
Limp Bizkit? I don't think so
Fred Durst? I don't know
But what the hell, I got paid
Goodbye now!

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Compuesta por: Fred Durst / John Otto / Sam Rivers / Wes Borland. ¿Los datos están equivocados? Avísanos.


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