B. Dolan, Buddy Peace - Mr. Buddy Buddy lyrics
[B. Dolan, Buddy Peace - Mr. Buddy Buddy lyrics]
Say hell to Mister Buddy Buddy
The charlatan the confidence man
Half man half mannequin
Living in the closet where
The objects are inanimate
Jingling his pockets
Talking money in his sleep
Talking funny like a president
Buddy is a creep he studied to be a priest
Now he preaches to the lost toys
Speaking in a soft voice
Sneaky with the altar boys
Ask him what his name is
He'll tell ya "Buddy Buddy, heh heh
No relation" the living go to die in the
Hole where his face is
At the beginning of time
He showed Satan how to shapeshift
Body image issues - never seen himself naked
Making money is a hobby but
He wants to be famous
He goes antique shopping
For Nazi pariphenalia
But Buddy's not a racist
He just loves a good sales pitch
Whichever way the scales tip
You can't knock the hustle
Of reaching in your chest
And squeezing that weak muscle
Mister Buddy Buddy doin the Buddy Buddy
Say hello to Buddy Buddy
At the scene of the accident
Master of the fast-pitch
Bumper sticker magnet pump it to the masses
Who snatch it up like addicts
Unsnap the brass latches
Of alligator suitcase
And pedal pleasant fragments
With new and improved taste
Six million ways to flavor the Kool Aid
A ripple through his face when
The room gets played
Never let a little thing like
Truth get in the way
The music he makes is loop based
Blooms like a stain
Grows on ya like a rash or
A tumor on the brain cyanide and toothpaste
The tools of his trade
Pass the laughing gas cuz Buddy is onstage!
A master of the craft a study in blackface
A series of site gags in utterly bad taste
With a clearance price tag
On everything he displays
He gets the fuck outta Dodge
Ahead of the hurricane
Nothing remains but destruction in his wake
And bunch of no-buddies
Praying for more rain
Mister Buddy Buddy doin the Buddy Buddy
The charlatan the confidence man
Half man half mannequin
Living in the closet where
The objects are inanimate
Jingling his pockets
Talking money in his sleep
Talking funny like a president
Buddy is a creep he studied to be a priest
Now he preaches to the lost toys
Speaking in a soft voice
Sneaky with the altar boys
Ask him what his name is
He'll tell ya "Buddy Buddy, heh heh
No relation" the living go to die in the
Hole where his face is
At the beginning of time
He showed Satan how to shapeshift
Body image issues - never seen himself naked
Making money is a hobby but
He wants to be famous
He goes antique shopping
For Nazi pariphenalia
But Buddy's not a racist
He just loves a good sales pitch
Whichever way the scales tip
You can't knock the hustle
Of reaching in your chest
And squeezing that weak muscle
Mister Buddy Buddy doin the Buddy Buddy
Say hello to Buddy Buddy
At the scene of the accident
Master of the fast-pitch
Bumper sticker magnet pump it to the masses
Who snatch it up like addicts
Unsnap the brass latches
Of alligator suitcase
And pedal pleasant fragments
With new and improved taste
Six million ways to flavor the Kool Aid
A ripple through his face when
The room gets played
Never let a little thing like
Truth get in the way
The music he makes is loop based
Blooms like a stain
Grows on ya like a rash or
A tumor on the brain cyanide and toothpaste
The tools of his trade
Pass the laughing gas cuz Buddy is onstage!
A master of the craft a study in blackface
A series of site gags in utterly bad taste
With a clearance price tag
On everything he displays
He gets the fuck outta Dodge
Ahead of the hurricane
Nothing remains but destruction in his wake
And bunch of no-buddies
Praying for more rain
Mister Buddy Buddy doin the Buddy Buddy