American Bitches Lyrics - Hard-off [explicit] - Bloodhound Gang

[Verse 1] 

Raise your hand if you like American bitches 

Locked in girl on girl kisses 

Well, I do 

You're just mad you can't score American bitches 

So you're blowing up shit, which 

Just goes to prove 

That eighteen year old bombs are dynamite 

Yes, eighteen year old bombs are dynamite 

(What kind of a man sits Indian style?) 

[Chorus] 

Camping with your bros, as your playoff beard grows 

Ain't gonna get your wack ass laid 

Camping with your bros, as your playoff beard grows 

Ain't gonna get your wack ass laid 

[Verse 2] 

Trust me holmes, you would kill for American bitches 

And the freedom of tits if 

You only knew, who-hoo 

That eighteen year old bombs are dynamite 

Yes, eighteen year old bombs are dynamite 

(What kind of a man sits Indian style?) 

[Chorus] 

[Verse 3] 

Come to Infidelphia 

And fall in love with the unholy 

My boy knows this stripper that looks just like Angelina Jolie 

[Bridge] 

Just 

Don't bring up 

What that club 

You belong to does... 

Dungeons & Dragons 

[Chorus] 

[Outro] 

Where I come from bras are booby traps 

And soft targets have a bikini wax 

Where I come from bras are booby traps 

And soft targets have a bikini wax 

Where I come from bras are booby traps 

And soft targets have a bikini wax 

Where I come from bras are booby traps 

And soft targets have a bikini wax