Ben Folds Five - For Those Of Y'all Who Wear Fanny Packs lyrics

Oh goddamn, I saw a goddamn f**in' goddamn, goddamn, woah Oh goddamn, sh**chya it's cool Play it on the radio Come here one time, wa**up y'all I got this funky groove goin' on I gotta give a shout out to my homeboy in L.A. Wa**up boy? Wa**up y'all, come on Yo, this goes out to my homeboy Trey Going out in Chapel Hill Yeah, shouts out to A.K.A. known as Roadie k**er New York City Yo, shouts out to my main manager man Al Wolmark known as A.K.A. you're a bad motherf**er C.E.C. bring in the ba**, y'all Yeah and I thought that's how you felt about the motherf**er Yeah I thought that's how you felt Yeah Sledge, bring in the ba** For those of y'all who wear fannie packs, come on For those of y'all that wear fannie packs, come on For those of y'all that wear fannie packs and pony tails, come on For those of y'all that wear fannie packs And got the pony tails come f**ing on Yeah, my boy, Sledge on the ba** in your face My boy, Ben on the piano coming in, let him in, let him in Yeah, let my boy, Ben in, alright, yeah Hey D? Hey D? Yeah, wa**up? You gonna let me in D? Wa**up? You gonna me in? Yo let that piano solo in Let me in, let me in, Goddamn, yeah You and your mother have seen things happen I don't mind singing and I don't mind rappin' I can find at least a hundred ways to get my sh** I play the piano, goddamn that's some funky sh** Yeah, I said for those of y'all who wear fannie packs This song's coming out, it's coming attchya I wanna borrow an allen wrench I wanna borrow some duct tape I wanna borrow a mic cable ba** in your face Ba** in your face, let's break it, break it, break it down We're gonna break this sh** down, gimme some ba** That's pretty good bring this sh** in Oh goddamn, sh**chya it's cool Play that cymbal, man Play that tasty, tasty high hat work Yo, I'm gonna bring that tasty high hat work bring it I'm gonna bring that sh** in, I wanna taste it, man right now Yo, this sound goes out to my main man At the point in Atlanta, wa**up Gimme my f**in' monitor, man Ernie, I'm sorry, I can't give you any more Monitor than that It won't go any higher than that Because the transistors the resistors They won't go any higher Alright, y'all, take this motherf**er out with a piano solo Goddamn, uh, uh goddamn Alright, turn that sh** out I hope you taped that, that's our next single Oh, they've left, they gave up These guys are f**ing idiots That s**ed