labrat matinee

3.07.2008



More nonsense at the end of the maze ...

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Thirsty Throw-Down

10.21.2007







Skye Giordano's
SPILLER


Malaclypse the Tertiary featuring Bizzle
Lyrics by Tokyocrunch

Additional lyrics by Malaclypse the Tertiary and Bizzle
Cover art by Tokyocrunch
Produced by Malaclypse the Tertiary for RitualLab
Management: Joe Jackson


It's close to midnight and Skyesy G. is drinking at the bar
"Grab me a Red Stripe" you shout but doubt that he will get that far
You try to scream, but "Ring of Fire" is blaring from the jukebox
You start to freeze, 'cause warning Skyesy simply will not stop,
A beer that will drop.

CHORUS
Cause this is Spiller, Spiller's night
Shitfaced he can prove the law of gravity is right
You know it's Spiller, Spiller's night
Careful with that knife or it's a killer Spiller tonight

You hear the door slam: Skye's back home at six five twenty one
Vodka in his hand, looks like he just made a Patrick's run
You close your eyes as he pulls out four cans of ice cold Pimp Juice
But all the while, even if it takes away your pains
You know that shit stains

But this is Spiller, Spiller's night
Prob'ly shouldn't drink a drink that makes my urine bright
You know it's Spiller, Spiller's night
Careful with that knife or it's a killer Spiller tonight

BRIDGE
Rug doctors call
And cleaning solvents all are on proud display
There's no solution: that's paint you kicked over tonight
How are your carpets so white?

They're out to get you, and drag you out for drinks before last call
It's quite a mess you see when Spiller's chatting up some doll
Now is the time, that Spiller drops his drink on that fine lady
All through the night, he offers shots for ruining her shoe
But spills those drinks too!

Cause this is Spiller, Spiller's night
Homeboy spills so much he makes an old brewmaster cry
Girl this is Spiller, Spiller's night
Careful with that knife or it's a killer, chiller, Spiller killer
Spiller's here tonight

It's last call across the land
The midnight hour has passed again
Spiller prowls in search of food
And farts up yawls neighborhood
Now, whosoever shall be found
When Alf’s cat pizza comes around
Must stand and face the rang doorbell
And tip the driver, tip him well

The foulest stench is the air
The funk of forty thousand beers
Soon noisy drunks bumrush the room
They know their slice will be gone soon
And tho he spills upon his shirt
Our Spiller does not shiver
For no mere red sauce can resist
The Tide stick of the Spiller

Muhahahahahaha!

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