Bunchofuckingoofs

Driving around in your new car
It’s your new identity, it's who you are
Everyone can see by your cool new raybans
It's clearly you who really is the man

The brutal waft that chokes me
When your car passes on the street
It's not exhaust, but bad cologne
And it all smells like dirty feet

And all the letters on the labels
That tag your clone designer clothes
All clearly spell right out to me
That i should be breaking your fucking nose

That fatfood you cram in your face
Is killing all of us, haven't you heard
Leaves a trail of garbage behind you
That I'd like to make you eat for fucken desert

All day you’re dropping fifties
Like they're going out of style
And whine about how little you have
Cos only cash forces you to smile

It's a good thing you got the cops
To protect you and your little dreams
Cos I’d like to rudely awaken you
With your own final blood curdling screams