IHOP

Got Oakleys on my face to keep the sun from coming in
I'm swinging at the ball and that's a double homonym
Ain't no one that can touch me
I got trouble cuddling
In the forty-forty club and I ain't s-s-stuttering
The name's Jose, they call me Yoplait
I'm a low fat treat that the ladies wanna lay
And in a melee, bring style to the brawl
'Cause I'll punch you in a poncho
And I'll shake you in a shawl
Hit the ball so fucking hard
You can hear the cow it came from scream
Plus my mane got the sheen
I mean its mean to disrupt the mean, but I meant to
This ain't Bill Buckner's legs
You don't know what I went through
And I got news to present you
My collect calls to your mama got sent through
In her crib so much
I should pay rent, too
Devil down below
When they ask me: who sent you?

The house of pancakes is my favorite place
I love the booth seating and I love-a the taste
My Andros are part of a nutritious breakfast
My necks so big that it broke-a my necklace
Slipped on the puka shells on the floor
Had to go re-up at the puka shell store
Hey, Mark, welcome back to your favorite shop
Yo, shut the fuck up and put the pukas in the box
Okay, Big Mac, there's no need to be rude
I'm sorry Bob, it's the steroids, they fuck with my mood
Now put the pukas in the bag before I blow my top
'Cause me and Jose about to smash back to IHOP



Credits
Writer(s): Akiva Schaffer, Andrew D. Samberg, Jason Kevin Pounds
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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