Pamela Lyrics

J Styles: Hey Luke Ski!
Luke Ski: Hey J Styles, what's up?
J Styles: I was flipping through the channels last night and you know what was on?
Luke Ski: Oh, what?
J Styles: The making of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition!
Luke Ski: Oooh yeah!
J Styles: You know who was on the cover this year? Tyra Banks!
Luke Ski: "Tyra Banks! You left your toothbrush at my house!"
J Styles: Yeah, I taped it for you so you can watch it later.
Luke Ski: Thanks a lot man, I, uh, uh oh.
J Styles: What?
Luke Ski: Oh, here she comes.
J Styles: Oh boy here we go.
Luke Ski: Just let her vent for a while and we'll get through this in one piece.
J Styles: I gotcha man.
Miss Tricia: Hey!
Luke Ski: Oh, hi, Miss Tricia!
J Styles: How's it goin', sweetie?
Miss Tricia: All right, you can stop sucking up to me right now, you men! I'm here to express myself as a woman of the 90's, and I hired you two idiots to sing back-up, not make wisecracks!
Luke Ski: Boy did you get hosed on that deal.
Miss Tricia: What?
Luke Ski: Uh, I, I said nothing!

That slut makes me sick.
Only 35% of her body is organic.
Baywatch beach blanket bimbo.
I've seen less silicone in a pay telephone.
Don't the men know it's all airbrushing, and special effects?
I'll wring their necks,

The next time I see them talking, gauking, watching, or even thinking about that, that,

Pamela! I hate that-
Pamela-ha! Lee Anderson, whatever her name is!
Pamela! Why can't she just die?
Pamela-ha!

Luke Ski: I would like to thank Trish for keeping us abreast of the situation
Miss Tricia: Shut up!

Struttin' across the TV screen,
She makes a teenage girl lose all self esteem.
Blonde hair, roots are brownish-red.
I've seen more realistic lips on a potato head.
Don't you know she's just some harpy, sent from straight out of Hell,
Made by Mattel!

Luke Ski: Let's go down to Toys 'R Us and get one for ourselves!
J Styles: I got your Kung-fu grip right here!
Miss Tricia: You, you two are gonna die!

Pamela! (Luke Ski: Stop drooling on the mic! J Styles: Oh, sorry.)
Pamela-ha! (Luke Ski & J Styles: Yakity-yakity-yakity-ehh-ehh-ehh!)
Pamela! (J Styles: I bet David Hasslehoff never wrote a song like this!)
Pamela-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! (Luke Ski: Rick Flair! J Styles: Woo!)

Miss Tricia: All those anorexic supermodel twits need to be destroyed and I'm just the woman to do it!
J Styles: What about Cindy Crawford!
Miss Tricia: I'll crucify her!
Luke Ski: Jenny McCarthy?
Miss Tricia: Death by catapult!
J Styles: Demi Moore?
Miss Tricia: Burn her at the stake!
Luke Ski: Kate Moss!
Miss Tricia: I'll put a lamp shade on her head and plug her into the wall!
J Styles: Kathy Ireland?
Miss Tricia: We'll have a blarney stoning!
Luke Ski: Alicia Silverstone?
Miss Tricia: I'll crush her!
J Styles: Cameron Diaz?
Miss Tricia: I'll smoke her!
Luke Ski: Anna Nicole Smith?
Miss Tricia: I'll make her marry O.J.!
J Styles: Ricki Lake?
Miss Tricia: Don't you talk about Ricki Lake! Ricki Lake is a national hero! Now shut up! I don't want to hear another word out of either of you two men!

Pam's hair dryer's running a bit hot tonight.
(Luke Ski: Have you seen Pamela's hair? J Styles: Yeah.)
She can barely see her toes from the implants in her chest.
(Luke Ski: I understand her hair was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright? J Styles: Really?)
I'd like to reach out, grab her neck and, pop her stupid dandelion head off.

My boyfriend, what a man, promised never to watch her again.
But that lair, saw "Barb Wire", so I set his head on fire now!
J Styles: Waaaaoooowww!

Pamela! (Luke Ski: Hey what about all those posters you got?)
Pamela-ha! (J Styles: Yeah, of Hugh Grant, Al Pacino, and LL Cool J?)
Pamela! (Miss Tricia: Did I give you permission to speak? J Styles: No.)
Pamela-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Pamela! (Luke Ski: Remind me to hide my Playboys when she's around.)
Pamela-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!
Pamela!

Miss Tricia: I'm done, you may drive me home now.
J Styles & Luke Ski: Yes dear.