Jon Good

Ahh
Hee hee
Sorry

His father is a gynecologist
He plays the trumpet
He lives in a little plastic cave
That he got from his mama's glow-stick rave

Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good

Pickitup
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep?

He got in trouble at lunch for throwing fruit
Got outta detention with Mr. Couts
The Op Ivy t-shirt he always wears
Contrasts with his afro hair
He shaved his head and went hardcore
When he couldn't play trumpet anymore
Okay

He tried to find sugar for the lemonade stand
That he worked at for the band
Ran as fast as he could down the hill
38 fairgoers were almost killed
By the hand-truck that he bore
It was almost the end for

Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good

Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good
Jon Good

Doo doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo
Doo-doo-doo doo-doo-doo doo-doo doo doo
Doo doo doo doo-doo doo doo doo
Doo-doo-doo doo-doo-doo doo doo doo

Pickitup
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)
Hep hep hep (pickitup)

Jon Good



Credits
Writer(s): Chad Carino
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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