For Those Of Yall Who Wear Fanny Packs Lyrics by Ben Folds Five

For Those Of Yall Who Wear Fanny Packs Lyrics

    [note: i've listened real hard and
    Done my research on references, but the fact remains. . .
    Parts of this transcription are pretty much shots in the dark.]

    (. . .step on your fingernail. . .damn!
    That's ok, i can play with one hand, see?
    It sounds good!)

    Oh goddamn, i saw a goddamn
    Fuckin goddamn
    Goddamn- woah!
    Oh goddamn
    Shitchya it's cool

    Play it on the radio
    Come here one time
    Wassup y'all
    I got this funky groove goin' on
    I gotta give a shout out to my homeboy in la
    Wassup boy? wassup y'all, come on
    Yo, this goes out to my homeboy trey
    Going out in chapel hill
    Yeah shouts out to a.k.a. known as roadie killer

    New york city, mm hmm

    Yo, shouts out to my main manager man
    Al wolmark known as a.k.a. you're a bad motherfucker
    C.e.c.
    Bring in the bass, y'all!
    Yeah, and i thought that's how you felt about the motherfucker
    Yeah, i thought that's how you felt
    Yeah, sledge, bring in the bass!

    For those of y'all who wear fannie packs, come on
    For those of y'all that wear fannie packs, come on
    For those of y'all that wear fannie packs (and pony tails) come on
    For those of y'all that wear fannie packs (and got the pony tails) come fucking on

    Yeah, my boy sledge on the bass in your face
    My boy ben on the piano coming in, let him in, let him in!
    Yeah. . .
    Let my boy ben in, alright, yeah

    Hey d?
    Hey d?
    Yeah, wassup?
    You gonna let me in d?
    Wassup?
    You gonna me in?
    Yo let that piano solo in
    Let me in, let me in!
    Goddamn, yeah!

    You and your mother have seen things happen
    I don't mind singing and i don't mind rappin'
    I can find at least a hundred ways to get my shit
    I play the piano-
    Goddamn that's some funky shit!

    Yeah, i said for those of y'all who wear fannie packs
    This song's coming out, it's coming attchya!
    I wanna borrow an allen wrench!
    I wanna borrow some duct tape!
    I wanna borrow a mic cable!
    Bass in your face!

    Bass in your face
    Let's break it break it break it down
    We're gonna break this shit down
    Gimme some bass
    That's pretty good
    Bring this shit in!
    Oh goddamn
    Shitchya it's cool

    Play that cymbal, man
    Play that tasty, tasty high hat work
    Yo, i'm gonna bring that tasty high hat work
    Bring it
    I'm gonna bring that shit in
    I wanna taste it, man
    Right now!
    Ah ha ha ha. . .
    Yo, this sound goes out to my main man
    At the point in atlanta
    Wassup, g? gimme my fuckin' monitor, man!
    Ernie. .
    I'm sorry, i can't give you any more
    Monitor than that
    It won't go any higher than that
    Because the transistors the resistors
    They won't go any higher

    Alright, y'all
    Take this motherfucker out with a piano solo
    Goddamn, uh!
    Uh god-
    Damn!
    Alright, turn that shit out!
    1-2-3-4. . .

    (i hope you taped that-
    That's our next single.
    Oh, they've left.
    They gave up. . .
    These guys are fucking idiots!
    That sucked. . .)

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