letra de bonus track - haydn startzel
[verse 1: haydn]
it’s sat-rday morning, kick the f-ckin’ door in
yell, “yo, give us a table”
she says, “all right, but it might be borin’
why don’t you just wait ’til we able”
this place is kind of a sh-t hole now isn’t it? might even, just go to denny’s instead. burgers are pretty good though. yeah i’ll probably get one of those
“all right we able!”
sit down, waters all around
listen to the sound of a breakfast playground
“what can i get you? look at the menu
tell me what you want and that’s what i’ll send you”
“i know what i want but it ain’t on the menu
it comes with eggs, and a side of put it in you”
“boy that’ll cost you a decade and a nickel”
“oh never mind, give me a burger extra pickles”
[verse 2: jpags, (haydn)]
burger for breakfast? that ain’t infectious
i’m getting the split decision
(oh my precious
you’re alive you f-ckin’ wh0re)
the split decision’s got all i could ask for
food has come, and d-mn she’s looking h-lla good
and honestly, i wanna give that waitress h-lla wood
eyes fixed on that b-ttered up french toast
and check out those two big yellow yolks
crunch down on the bacon crispy as my silk
and finally the pancakes, they’re b-ttermilk
for this price it’s a steal, a misdemeanor
and a sausage? that’s an average ass wiener
yeah there’s some things i’d do to her i probably shouldn’t mention
ain’t it kinda wild ihop is a full sentence?
sorry i’m just too distracted by her ass
it’s time to give the tip and i ain’t talking about just cash
[haydn]
and i was like, “john, obviously i’m not— i’m on the beamer/lil lipz side because you’ve released like two songs and they’re both terrible and they have stolen beats, and it’s like, why wouldn’t i—” “sir, here’s your burger”
[verse 3: haydn, (jpags)]
this sammich boutta drive me wild
got those pickles in a pile
just need my hands no silverware
to dig into that medium rare
burger, that i’m boutta murder
gonna tip that girl so much that it might hurt her
why’s it called “back at ihop” if it’s your first time?
well i’m back so please stop it’s the worst time
to be gangin’ up on a dude in his first time
makin’ an album in the first chime
of the clock, suck my c-ck
’cause waitresses do whatever for the rock
b-tches, b-st-rds, the furthest from the top
they don’t got no standards, back at ihop
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