Tekster: KoЯn. Other. All In The Family.

Fred: Say what say what?
Jon: My dick is bigger than yours...
Fred: Say what say what?
Jon: My band is bigger than yours...
Fred: Too bad I got your beans in my bag stuck up sucka' Korny
motherfucka'. Takin' over foes is the Limp pimp need a Bizkit to save
this
crew from Jon Davis. I'm gonna drop a little east side skill ya best
step back
'cuz I'm 'a kill I'm 'a kill. So watcha thinking Mr. Raggedy man?
Doin' all you
can to look like Raggedy Ann.
Jon: I'll Check you out punk, yes I know you feel it. You look like
one of those
dancers from the Hanson video, you little faggot ho. Please give me
some shit
to wreck with, 'cuz right now I'm all wicked, suck my dick kid, like
your daddy
did.
Fred: Who the fuck you think you're talking to??
Jon: Me.
Fred: I'm known for eatin' little whiny chumps like you.
Jon: Whatever.
Fred: All up in my face with that...
Jon: Are you ready?!?
Fred: But halitosis, is all you're rockin' steady. You little fairy,
smelling all
your flowers. Nappy hairy chest, look it's Austin Powers!
Jon: Yeah, baby!
Fred: I hear ya tootin' on them bagpipes clad, but you said it best,
there's
No Place To Hide.
Jon: What the fuck ya' sayin'? You're a pimp whateva', limp dick. Fred
Durst
needs to rehearse, needs to reverse what he's saying. Wanna be
funkdoobiest when you're playin', rippin' up a bad counterfeit,
fakin'! Plus your bills I'm
paying, you can't eat that shit every day, Fred.
Jon: Lay off the bacon
Fred: Say what, say what? You better watch your fuckin' mouth, Jon.
CHORUS:
Jon: So you hate me?
Fred: and I hate you!
Jon: You know what, you know what?
Both: It's all in the family.
Jon: I hate you!
Fred: and you hate me!
Jon: You know what, you know what?
Both: It's all in the family.
Jon: Look at you fool, I'm gonna fuck you up twice, throwin' rhymes at
me
like, oh shit alright, Vanilla Ice. Ya better run, run while ya can,
you'll never fuck me
up, Bisc Limpkit. At least I got a phat, original band.
Fred: Who's hot, who's not?
Jon: You.
Fred: You best step back, Korn on the cob, you need a new job. Time to
take
them mic skills back to the dentist, and buy yourself a new grill.
Jon: Fuck you.
Fred: You pumpkin pie, I'll jack-off in your eye. Climbing shoots and
ladders,
while your ego shatters. But you just can't get away.
Jon: Get a gay?
Fred: 'Cuz it's doomsday kid, it's doomsday.
CHORUS
Fred: You call yourself a singer?
Jon: Yep.
Fred: You're more like Jerry Springer.
Jon: Oh cool!
Fred: Your favorite band is winger,
Jon: Winger?
Fred: and all you eat is Zingers. You're like a Fruity Pebble, your
favorite flag
is rebel.
Jon: Yeeeeeehaaaaaa!!
Fred: It's just too bad that you're a faggot on a lower level.
Jon: So you're from Jacksonville, kickin' it like Buffalo Bill.
Gettin' butt-fucked
by your uncle Chuck, while your sister's on her knees waitin' for your
little peanut.
Fred: Wait, where'd ya get that little dance?
Jon: Over here.
Fred: Like them idiots in Waco, you're burning up in Bako where your
father
had your mother, your mother had your brother, it's just too bad your
father's
mad, your mother's now your lover.
Jon: Come on hillbilly, can your horse do a fuckin' wheelie? You love
it down
south in the fall, you sure do got a purdy mouth.
CHORUS
Jon: and I love you!
Fred: and I want you!
Jon: and I'll suck you!
Fred: and I'll fuck you!
Jon: and I'll butt-fuck you!
Fred: and I'll eat you!
Jon: and I'll lick your little dick, motherfucka'.
Fred: Say what? Say... what?