Kashmere - Bullet Proof Mustache lyrics

[Kashmere] Bulletproof mustache.. Bulletproof mustache.. A yo, twelve little simians jumping upon the bed One fell the f** off Landed and bumped his head His mother called the doctor and this is what he said: “Smoke dust till the ambulance runs a red” Pandora, opening up the damned box Dash a whale in the ocean like John Hanco*k Damn, when he's finished grabbing his balls He sat with half a gram and some british amateur p**n He should really stand up, be a man and spark a nation But his dick was titanium alloy with armor plating Sane, remained in the seat calm and patient Trying to think about sandwiches, rats, Sarah Palin On the street, rocking a dark halo Pay attention He's sk**fully dodging a Sharknado They say he's quite pathetic for causing mega harm But he's brain is cybernetic like Shwarzeneggars arm The sk** of the man with golden meatballs Who'll pop the eyes out of your skull like Total Recall The grand sapient tasting the canned flavoring Iller than Jean Claude Van punching a damn alien Yo, you tried shooting at the bullet proof mustache The bullet ricochet then it rushed back so f** that In the club, rest with my three Uzis Chopping a chick up in the bar with three b**bies Hit the stage to rock a mean crowd With a tache to make Burt Reynolds seem proud -wow!- Got them like “Wow!” He's got a bullet proof mustache [Lee Scott] They planned to invade this cess pool planet in nine three But landed to find me 'Long Tall Sally' on practicing Thai Chi Calm like a Hindu cow Look what you've got yourselves into now I train for hours in the rain Picturesque mountainous terrain Sixty reps in a set, smoking cigarettes in a vest With a boulder on my pigeon chest Left the whole city in a mess To save a single damsel in distress Necking whisky on me bill depressed Angry at God but I'm still the best man for the job f** a presidents blessing I win quiet wars with deafening weapons You'll die before the lion roars f** the credits I don't like awards I save us all while you shine your swords Teabag the mother ship with fire balls Then hit the ground like a crash landin' I'm the last man standing like Van Damme dancin' Raise the weapon, teach the alien race a lesson Jessue Ventura 'tache circa 87 Swinging a bat like Freddie Flintoff Braindead, lawn mowing limbs off Malnourished Rambo, karate chopping a mango Into equal portions to feed the orphans You want your planet saving just ask The man with the Bullet Proof Mustache You want your planet saving just ask The Bullet Proof Mustache!