In A Cold Ass Fashion Lyrics

Fly like the eagleFly like the eagleFlySqueegeeAh, you got itWhen we get down to the shrink-wrap on my graveYou know the nitty-gritty never looked so safeYou get whiplash under the bridgeLike a cold-ass lover with the buckskinGet the squeegee and it's easy to be meClean my boots and I'm still feelin' homelessYour brother is deader than a phone machineWith a bucke tof green pissAnd I'm tryin' not to look at Satan making love to a dishragSo load up the gimmick wagon, get out of townDo me a favor -- don't stick around'Cause my kneecaps are turnin' slightly brownLet's be doin' it rightComin' down in a cold ass fashionAnd the people don't breatheComin' down in a cold ass fashionSteppin' in the beefsteakComin' down in a cold ass fashionAnd the mayonnaise comesComin' down in a cold ass fashionBlack TwinkieGettin' all caught up in a taste testAn' it all basically tastes like crapI can shake my own hand, give myself a grinI can pick my own nose and put it back inI can squeeze the breeze, drink a bottle of liceSmoke a pack of whiskey with Jesus ChristI got options, I got cop shows, I get nauseousAnd the sweat is Day-GloWent to sleep, woke up in a coffinTook out my eyeballs an' put 'em in a condomYour daddy's got laxatives on his brainGettin' savvy in the back of a trainMojo weedwhacker cuttin' spaceHot dogs rottin' in the bottom of the suitcaseAnd your mouth, smells like hair gelI love you but you don't know how to spellWhere can you duck when they shoot you full of pigeon holes?And there ain't nothin' like the real artificialO.G.: original glue snifferComin' down in a cold ass fashionAnd the people don't breatheComin' down in a cold ass fashionAren't you fightin for some bitch(???)Comin' down in a cold ass fashionSmeared with sauceComin' down in a cold ass fashionWould you believe, but ya man(???)Uh, wait...Talkin' about a cold ass fashion [x16][The following three lines are spoken at various times over the above:]Cold ass fashion, cold ass fashion, squeegee[Backwards:] [???] up your ass[Backwards:] [???] hot dogIt's like forty pounds of avacado sauceSmeared across your bossYou know what I'm sayin'?You donno when it's comin'You know, it's like forty-five horsesRunnin' through the graveyardIn yellow pantiesThat is coldFashion