Rapp Lyrics - Jon Spencer Blues Explosion

She said 

She said 

She said 

She said 

Don't worry I've got the bread 

Check's in the mail 

Full speed ahead 

Check's in the mail 

I won't come in your mouth 

Got some great gigs for you way down south 

Trust me you'll go far 

Trust me you'll drive far 

Drive motherfuckers! 

You got great shows 

But nobody knows 

Joke's on you 

HAHAHAHAHA 

She said 

She said 

Spoiled brats green behind the knees 

Need their mom to wipe their nose 

Every time they sneeze 

That's a fucking rock star when 

They had a taste of fame 

They don't understand 

They got to play the goddamn game 

And then she said 

She said 

She said 

Yeah you fucking rock stars 

Rooting out that groupie head 

APB on the mic 

Each night for a bed 

Where's your fucking 8-ball 

And presidential suite? 

At the Parc Hotel 

And a sports car with 2 seats 

She said 

She said 

You're fired you lousy bum 

You're having too much fun 

And then we said 

Hey wait a minute 

We ain't no fucking rock stars 

What the hell? 

Honey it's not true 

We live on Frito-Lay 

We sleep out in the snow 

And we don't get paid 

As far as groupies go 

We're too tired to get laid 

We do it cuz we love punk rock 

There's no cash to be made 

We ain't no sleazy sellouts 

We really hate LA 

She said 

She said 

I'm not smoking crack