The Scabs Man of the Year Lyrics

Freebird Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 Big Butts & Blow Jobs
  • 2 Baby Put Your Panties On
  • 3 Tarantula
  • 4 Man of the Year
  • 5 Where I'm At
  • 6 So Fresh & So Fine
  • 7 Bombananza
  • 8 Bones
  • 9 I Fucked Your Daughter in the Ass, Boy
  • 10 Bulletproof Bodyrubber
  • 11 Pudding & Cheese
  • 12 Pussy Fever
  • 13 Sloppy Jalopy
  • 14 Pushin' on the Pull Bar
  • 15 You'll Be Mine
  • 16 Who Got the Goodies?
  • Holy macaroni and the stutter jive king
    Used to run Chicago doing the gangster thing
    They'd keep that Smith and Wesson in the pocket of their pants
    And it weren't nobody's business if the kid don't dance

    Now back then living in the hot seat it was furtive fast and fun
    You'd better save up all your bullets cause everybody had a gun
    You hardly had to use it but you never really knew
    What the other guy around the corner was gonna do

    Now holy macaroni'd hang out at the crazy horse
    He'd keep a buck knife in the freezer for emergencies of course
    He'd say you'd better drink 'em now boys 'fore they throw you in the slammer
    And keep an eye out for your baby cause she's about to pull the hammer

    Oooh boys there they go crazy legs and all
    Better watch yourself cause the sky's about to fall
    And when you get done running you can come back here
    I'll be back in Charlottesville I'll be the man of the year

    The stutter jive got twenty but macaroni never talked
    And Mary shot her husband but she paid the man and walked
    And somehow we all seemed to make it through without a scratch
    And if that seems too good to be true well there's probably a catch

    Well I was swinging on the eddison and making out with sue
    And I was hanging out with studs and roman shepeard and the crew
    Well bullets started flying and everybody hit the floor
    And now the last thing I remember is coppers flying through the door

    Well sally sue she bought it but everybody's gotta go
    So I figured it be best if I skipped down to Mexico
    Tequila and terazas and them mariachi bands
    And three months in san pellegrino and we're off again

    Heard about a bank job from this cat named lenny bones
    Three mill in the bag a five way split and we were home
    So I figured what the hell you gotta go with what you get
    But only me and lenny made it back but brother we were set

    Now the holy macaroni was a million dollar flake
    Ended up in folsom but the file was in the cake
    Me an angel we've been runnin ever since that day
    Shouting viva la fiesta yo man that headed that a way

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