| My dad taught me 'bout
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| The story 'bout the birds and the bees
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| When the bees turn into wasps and take half of everything
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| He sounded sure, that a bird doesn’t need a full nest
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| But a bed for our bird heads to rest
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| He told me son you’ll never dunk (WHAT?)
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| Its family tradition basketball is not for us
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| Our legs just aren’t that springy
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| My great-great-uncle almost did but he didn’t
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| He told me son beware, of the monsters
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| That roam the depths of your head
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| Sometimes they’ll make you real sad or
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| Or real, real mad, or real, real jealous and
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| That’s real, real bad, boy breathe
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| Nicotine until you fall asleep like all of our family
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| Breathe!
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| Nicotine until you fall asleep
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| Like, all of our family, like all of our family
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| I’m the new Will Smith, I’m
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| I’m, Will Smith mixed with Michael Cera
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| I’m Will Smith, Michael Cera
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| Kevin Spacey, Michael Cera man
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| My father’s married to a shape-shifting monster
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| Who can sometimes take the form
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| Of a really really really nice woman
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| And although it seems super fucking frightening
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| Sometimes this scary monster makes
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| A really really great vanilla pudding, he has courage
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| But sometimes your courage isn’t quite the kryptonite
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| As the monster runs rampant through the house
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| Sometimes your courage makes you feel strong
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| But it seems as if the monster eats your muscles all along
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| Fucking pickin' out your self-respect right out its scary teeth
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| Her breath smells like pride of self
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| And other men she used to meet
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| And the monster doesn’t sleep
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| It just schemes and fiends
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| On the next tasty meal it gets to eat
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| It gets to eat
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| It gets to eat
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| I’m the new Will Smith
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| I’m mixed with Kevin Spacey
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| I’m the new Will Smith
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| Kevin Spacey
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| Michael Cera, man
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| Oh
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| (What the fuck?) (oh)
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| (W-w-what the fuck?) (oh)
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| What the fuck?
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| Oh |