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Pink Guy - Rice Balls Lyrics



Pink Guy - Rice Balls Lyrics
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Welcome to the terror dome; the upper echelon
Investing on these large balls
I got these pussy bitches wailing like the Japanese
Killer whales, humpbacks, and these narwhals;
I'm just trying to strangle these f*ckers
I'm just trying to strangle these f*ckers
I'm just trying to strangle these
This the beep blop, you make the beat flop
Breathing more cushion than the seat got, so we got
The beat dropping harder than your son's balls at twelve, not
To mention that we harder than Viagra with a big cock
I'll f*ck you in the mouth again
I'll let you know that I'm a schizo; I be hearing shit
So don't be f*cking me, cause bet your ass I'm hearing it
When I get done with you I make sure that you're celibate
(Ewwwwwwwww)
F*ck your dog, I can smack E.T
And I'll f*ck you with a radiator pipe
(What, is that too rude?)

I'm a f*cking nuisance
With different types of abuses
I'm running up in the premises
Helping you tie your nooses
Cause all of you f*cks are clueless
And do not know how to do this
I act retarded on stage and then put my fingers in pusses
Like oh
Like oh
Oh
Oh

I f*ck around for money like a cam whore
Jerk it to my titties, pop it off on some gay shit
I fight your dad in the parking lots and/or
Beat their f*cking teeth in cause they raised shit
You sound like "I never spanked my kids
And I raised a piece of shit
And I drop my kids off at soccer practice every Tuesday"
This one's for the folks that be dead inside
Mini-golf champion; you got no drive, player
F*ckboys treat my dick like a trampoline
I only work with paper like a fax machine
I'm on the car's hood screaming like a mammal
Ripping through the flannel burning ass on my chest with the camels
I'm here to be an act not a role model
Don't be f*cking crying when I'm smashing your kid with a bottle
I'm just chilling making rice balls everyday
I'm a simple man, I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
Cause I'm already heated (That's not funny)

(Uh, we want real music)
(We want real music, we want Joji music)
(Huh, huh, huh)
Bro, I didn't even know real and fake music existed
I mean, I think it's like your fault for putting that shit into categories
Like, music is music; if you don't think this is real music that's your f*cking problem
Like, who says I can't drop shit while making a culinary funny video at the same time, you know?
Whatever man, it's your boy Pink Guy, Pink Omega; whatever the f*ck you wanna call me,
I don't give a f*ck
Coming at you again, still doing that wacky crazy shit bro,
Ain't nothing changed, so see you next time
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Welcome to the terror dome; the upper echelon
Investing on these large balls
I got these pussy bitches wailing like the Japanese
Killer whales, humpbacks, and these narwhals;
I'm just trying to strangle these f*ckers
I'm just trying to strangle these f*ckers
I'm just trying to strangle these
This the beep blop, you make the beat flop
Breathing more cushion than the seat got, so we got
The beat dropping harder than your son's balls at twelve, not
To mention that we harder than Viagra with a big cock
I'll f*ck you in the mouth again
I'll let you know that I'm a schizo; I be hearing shit
So don't be f*cking me, cause bet your ass I'm hearing it
When I get done with you I make sure that you're celibate
(Ewwwwwwwww)
F*ck your dog, I can smack E.T
And I'll f*ck you with a radiator pipe
(What, is that too rude?)

I'm a f*cking nuisance
With different types of abuses
I'm running up in the premises
Helping you tie your nooses
Cause all of you f*cks are clueless
And do not know how to do this
I act retarded on stage and then put my fingers in pusses
Like oh
Like oh
Oh
Oh

I f*ck around for money like a cam whore
Jerk it to my titties, pop it off on some gay shit
I fight your dad in the parking lots and/or
Beat their f*cking teeth in cause they raised shit
You sound like "I never spanked my kids
And I raised a piece of shit
And I drop my kids off at soccer practice every Tuesday"
This one's for the folks that be dead inside
Mini-golf champion; you got no drive, player
F*ckboys treat my dick like a trampoline
I only work with paper like a fax machine
I'm on the car's hood screaming like a mammal
Ripping through the flannel burning ass on my chest with the camels
I'm here to be an act not a role model
Don't be f*cking crying when I'm smashing your kid with a bottle
I'm just chilling making rice balls everyday
I'm a simple man, I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
I don't need a microwave
Cause I'm already heated (That's not funny)

(Uh, we want real music)
(We want real music, we want Joji music)
(Huh, huh, huh)
Bro, I didn't even know real and fake music existed
I mean, I think it's like your fault for putting that shit into categories
Like, music is music; if you don't think this is real music that's your f*cking problem
Like, who says I can't drop shit while making a culinary funny video at the same time, you know?
Whatever man, it's your boy Pink Guy, Pink Omega; whatever the f*ck you wanna call me,
I don't give a f*ck
Coming at you again, still doing that wacky crazy shit bro,
Ain't nothing changed, so see you next time
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: GEORGE MILLER
Copyright: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.

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Pink Guy - Rice Balls Video
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Performed By: Pink Guy
Length: 3:16
Written by: GEORGE MILLER

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