Teksty: Pig. A Fête Worse Than Death.

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Television, my teacher
Confessor and preacher
My bible
My bile
Talk show and trial

You're wet, I'm wild
For your shilling, I'm willing
Tune in your lips and burning breath
My fete worse than death

He thinks he's bad
Ain't got no plan
Rock this shotgun up his motherfuckin' ass
He thinks he's bad
Ain't got no plan
Rock this shotgun up his motherfuckin' ass

Rock this shotgun
Rock this shot
Rock this shotgun up his motherfucking ass
Rock this shotgun
Rock this shot
Rock this shotgun up his motherfucking ass

My profit, my pusher
My faker, my hooker
A little praise, it's astounding
In for a penny and I get a pounding

Through all the drinks
My vision shrinks and drowns this fife
That slowly sinks

He thinks he's bad
Ain't got no plan
Rock this shotgun up his motherfuckin' ass
He thinks he's bad
Ain't got no plan
Rock this shotgun up his motherfuckin' ass

Rock this shotgun
Rock this shot
Rock this shotgun up his motherfucking ass
Rock this shotgun
Rock this shot
Rock this shotgun up his motherfucking ass