Get up funky... huh, let me here ya talk, talk about bitch
  
  Me I'm a victim of a young girl's suck
  Feeling the emotions through my body ass butt
  Everytime I see her in that god damned dress
  Fell the stomach, busy stomach, that's what I have to confess
  
  Ah, that's me ya what you see ya
  Telling 'bout my stomach and my feels ya
  Ah that's me ya, watcha see ya
  Telling bout, telling bout me ya
  
  This is a thing that everybody knows about
  Every boy and bitch so myself I mustn't worry about
  Easy to find, huh, hard to lose
  So me myself and I, we got no chance to choose
  
  I can't tell ya what I feel ya
  This is a motherfucking problem that I hate ya
  I can't tell ya what I feel ya
  I hate it but I take it but I try to surpress ya
  
  Chorus:
  Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts
  Fuck, said fuck, fuck, said fuck the facts
  
  In addition to the point I was talking about
  You must remember my name and all my habits and my attitude
  So listen to the things that I've got to tell
  My name is G on the B.A.S.S. B.G
  
  Hit the bass in the face seven days of the week ya
  Hanging 'round my posse that's what everybody needs ya
  Me and my band, that's what I stay for - stay for
  Me and my band, that's what I pray for - pray for
  
  Music has a use for my personality
  Cause if I'd loose it I wouldn't stand it if you know what mean
  My heart is hundred percent music that's what I feel ya - feel ya
  I feel the drummers kick in my B.O.D.Y. so
  
  I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit
  Try to fight it with my music as hatred
  I try to combine my fucking emos to the bitch hit
  Try to combine it with my music as hatred
  
  Chorus
  
  What about my girl, man?
  What about my music, man?
  Ina bona lita
  I can't stand that shit...