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For those of y'all who wear fanny packs


Ben Folds Lyrics

 

For those of y'all who wear fanny packs Lyrics

For those of y'all who wear fanny packs by Ben Folds


[note: i've listened real hard and
Done my research on references, but the fact remains. . .
Parts of this transcription are pretty much shots in the dark.]

(. . .step on your fingernail. . .damn!
That's ok, i can play with one hand, see?
It sounds good!)

Oh goddamn, i saw a goddamn
f**kin goddamn
Goddamn- woah!
Oh goddamn
sh*tchya it's cool

Play it on the radio
Come here one time
Wassup y'all
I got this funky groove goin' on
I gotta give a shout out to my homeboy in la
Wassup boy? wassup 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 killer

New york city, mm hmm

Yo, shouts out to my main manager man
Al wolmark known as a.k.a. you're a bad motherf**ker
C.e.c.
Bring in the bass, y'all!
Yeah, and i thought that's how you felt about the motherf**ker
Yeah, i thought that's how you felt
Yeah, sledge, bring in the bass!

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**king on

Yeah, my boy sledge on the bass 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, wassup?
You gonna let me in d?
Wassup?
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*t
I play the piano-
Goddamn that's some funky sh*t!

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!
Bass in your face!

Bass in your face
Let's break it break it break it down
We're gonna break this sh*t down
Gimme some bass
That's pretty good
Bring this sh*t in!
Oh goddamn
sh*tchya 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*t in
I wanna taste it, man
Right now!
Ah ha ha ha. . .
Yo, this sound goes out to my main man
At the point in atlanta
Wassup, g? gimme my f**kin' 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**ker out with a piano solo
Goddamn, uh!
Uh god-
Damn!
Alright, turn that sh*t out!
1-2-3-4. . .

(i hope you taped that-
That's our next single.
Oh, they've left.
They gave up. . .
These guys are f**king idiots!
That sucked. . .)



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