| Hello ladies, here’s the deal: Welcome to Tech N9ne's tour bus |
| Before you get on this bus there’s a couple rules you need to follow: |
| Leave all your cell phones with me |
| There will be no Tweeting, no Facebooking |
| No playing the PlayStation, no Instagram, no YouTubing |
| Whatever happens on this bus, stays on this bus |
| Wassup? It’s me, Caribou Lou again |
| (Tech N9ne!) Kansas City, fuckin' hooligan |
| If you think you cool and true Then doing the fool my friend |
| You’ll begin boozing and choosing women that we do and do again |
| Only if they hold us, the secrets they crossing over |
| The beaches and often go, where we eating we rock and rollers |
| Deep in the thoughts we go, but no Tweetin' she lost her mobile |
| And geekin' because we showed her, freakin' across the globe |
| In the weekend we off in Boulder, Colorado |
| All my soldiers got a bottle |
| And some hoes with a wobble from sticky dough’s you hella bobble |
| Head bitches they model and let’s kick it Colorado’s |
| A red district full of brothels and med fixes |
| Yo, we gotta hide, just see, we get no privacy |
| Why, would she ride, with me, tweet, and straight lie to me? |
| I don’t know (What?) who, she sleeps with |
| But, all I know is: Don’t you tweet this |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Baby I would hate to, kick it and then erase ya |
| Cause you wanna go to one of those social networks |
| And go state the facts about my nature I gave to see you later |
| (Oooooh) this bitch is shakin' the table |
| Pissed at me cause you wished it be |
| Listed with a Twit Pic sick at me |
| When ya missed it you scripted me |
| When I gotta move invisibly |
| You violate it, you fly away it |
| Simple cause I am stealth |
| Then formulate it, we tried to made it |
| Keep it to your damn self |
| Get our nudie on, quiet, we can truly bone |
| And I’ll be pushing all yo buttons like movie phone |
| Act like you belong, creeping in my groovy home |
| Drinkin Bou-Lou we gone every weekend, all my groupies owned |
| Way of life, keep it neat trick |
| If you and the beast mix, you don’t see shit |
| And you will get the least bit of resistance |
| We pick who we see fit, but yo |
| (Don't Tweet This) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Yeah, it is what it is, baby |
| No I don’t want a lot of ears in my bizz lady |
| Crazy Daily, thizz at my crib, save me |
| Dippin' get me to drop some jizz on your lid maybe |
| We in Canada partying like some animals |
| Even my tour manager know that Tweetin' will vanish you |
| Tweet the day I go and say my party wasn’t amateur |
| Granted the lost camera was planted in tall canisters |
| Keys, you will receive, right when you leave |
| Please, grab all your needs, ya cannot leave, not a thing |
| Put away ya phone, Yahtzee! |
| And don’t be flickin' like the fuckin' paparazzi |
| We livin' covert, Flava Flav know! |
| We let you see what we want to, and when we say so |
| (Monitor!) Her Tweetin' gossip is really out of her |
| That’s why, I think I don’t have that many followers! |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| What the fuck you mean am i mad |
| Its 4 oclock in the fucking morning |
| And you seating here talking to me about tweeter |
| Tweeter men, fuck that’s some bull shit America |
| Bitch |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |
| Do what I told you, I told you, I told you |
| (Don't tweet this!) |