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lyrics

Brikabraka, paddywack. Ya leave the dog alone.
Dig a hole and watch it grow. DeVito roast a bone.
White and black and lavender. Pages get pulled out of calendars.
Fidget and forget the passive words. Hickory dickory that ya nerds.
Pick a patch of pickled peppers, peel em apart, put em back together.
Stomp the wine in fine stilettos. Write a million miss ya letters.
Take the tirade to the top. Get in, get out, get off, get on.
Why's it so circular, not perpendicular. Year of the Pineapple, get out your crucifer.

Brikabraka, padded jacket in case they bring the chrome.
Get a gat a-rat-a-tat-a, splat into the dome.
Who's the fool bringing power tools to mules?
He didn't read the rules and now he's gonna get schooled.
First you take the pliers to the teeth, remove all trace of identity.
You take the planer to the finger pads, it's bad but necessary.
Very kinda scary unless you do it on the regs.
I'm chainin up their arms while you're chainin up their legs.
We're gonna wind em up and tell em jokes until their sides split open
and the top gets separated from the rest.
We'll make a fuckin mess with hooks and hammers, course we'll cover it with cameras and we'll cut your fucking heart out of your chest.

Yeah, I'm a mathlete. You can ask me.
I sixty-nine bitches in the backseat
of my taxi, that's a creepy van.
I'll go Undertaker- Tombstone any man.
Speakin of piledrivers, how's your mama doin?
We used to kick old school like the first June.
If you don't get the reference I'll get the referee.
Cause I don't let the better get the best of me.
Girl, I'm level 3. Bill Belamy. I don't know who that is
but he's heard of me.
I'm the whitest rapper ever except for Apollo D
diagonally killin em. Connect 4.

And I came for the Chex Mix not sex, whore.
And I prefer playin chess in six sets more.
And whats more is I don't even have a penis.
I'm a Ken doll, a candle, fuck, what I mean is…
Well, I guess I'm out in the open.
I'll flash my fleshy fun bits and you can do your scopin.
And we can get to lovin and we don't have to pretend to be
something we're not cause we ain't got no fear of pregnancy.

credits

from It's Happening Pt. 1- The Storm, released April 20, 2015

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The Pineapple Army Michigan

I've always been terrible at writing biographies so why stop now. We're probably a band from Michigan. We don't adhere to a specific genre which causes mild schizophrenia in certain individuals. We will write commercial jingles for the right price and we do NOT play at weddings, only funerals. ... more

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