Tons Of Lyrics

In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins and Im out to cut the junkie
With the plastic eyeballs, spray-paint the vegetables
Dog food stalls with the beefcake pantyhose
Kill the headlights and put it in neutral
Stock car flamin with a loser and the cruise control
Babys in reno with the vitamin d
Got a couple of couches, sleep on the love-seat
Someone came in sayin Im insane to complain
About a shotgun wedding and a stain on my shirt
Dont believe everything that you breathe
You get a parking violation and a maggot on your sleeve
So shave your face with some mace in the dark
Savin all your food stamps and burnin down the trailer park

Yo. cut it.

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?

Forces of evil on a bozo nightmare
Ban all the music with a phony gas chamber
cuz ones got a weasel and the others got a flag
Ones on the pole, shove the other in a bag
With the rerun shows and the cocaine nose-job
The daytime crap of the folksinger slob
He hung himself with a guitar string
A slab of turkey-neck and its hangin from a pigeon wing
You cant write if you cant relate
Trade the cash for the beef for the body for the hate
And my time is a piece of wax fallin on a termite
Thats chokin on the splinters

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(get crazy with the cheese whiz)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(drive-by body-pierce)
(yo bring it on down)
Soooooooyy….

(Im a driver, Im a winner; things are gonna change I can feel it)

Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(I cant believe you)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(schprechen sie deutches, baby)
Soy un perdedor
Im a loser baby, so why dont you kill me?
(know what Im sayin? )

Beck, Tons Of Lyrics

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There’s a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
Jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans and just clap your hands and just clap your hands
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
[robot] I got two turntables and a microphone
[sample]: take me home in my elevator bones!
[sample]: that was a good drum break
Pick yourself up off the side of the road
With your elevator bones and your whip-flash tones
Members only, hyponotizers move through the room like ambulance drivers
Shine your shoes with your microphone blues
Hirsuits with your parachute flutes
Passing the dutchee from coast to coast
Let the man Gary Wilson
[sample]: “rock the most”
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
[sample]: “What about those who swing both ways: AC-DC’s
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Oh, dear me. Make Out City is a two-horse town
[sample]: “That’s beautiful, Dad.”
Get my microphone….
There’s a destination a little up the road
From the habitations and the towns we know
A place we saw the lights turn low
Jig-saw jazz and the get-fresh flow
Pulling out jives and jamboree handouts
Two turntables and a microphone
Bottles and cans and just clap your hands and just clap your hands
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
Where it’s at!
I got two turntables and a microphone
I got plastic on my mind
Telephone plastic baby

Beck, Tons Of Lyrics

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