* pre-release single; available only at the website
{*a parody of the 50 Cent song Wanksta*}
[Intro]
OK, who`s next?
Hi, My name`s Jason
And I`m going to sing Somewhere Over The Rainbow
OK. Go for it
(Really bad) Somewhere over the rainbow/ Way over there
Oh dear Lord..
[verse 1]
You think you`s a pop star, but you need to stop singin`
I think you should leave now, till my ears have stopped ringin`
You can`t sing worth shit, and you can`t dance worth shit
What makes you think that if you cut a song it`d be a hit
We do this all the time, some people soundin` fine
But others sound like they`re committing sins against mankind
This girl she looks fine, she wants to get signed
Her mouth opens and it sounds like gears when they grind
I tell them all the time, send shivers down my spine
They start to bitch and whine, and tell me I`m a swine
They think they sound like gold, and I`m the one they loathe
But they`re all screamin` like they leaned against a hot stove
So I send them away, and they all feel betrayed
But even Paula doesn`t have anything nice to say
[chorus]
You think you`s a pop star, but you need to stop singin`
I think you should leave now, till my ears have stopped ringin`
When you try to hit a note, you sound like a sea lion
You been singin` for your whole life, you need to stop tryin` (repeat)
[verse 2]
Damn homie, you sound like
A dying lamb, homie, the hell`s up with that?
And then up next is Loretta, and I`m sorry I met her
`Cause when she finished her song, I thought I`d need a rib spreader
She thinks that she can do better, sing just like Eddie Vedder
She thinks I`m out to get her, like I had a vendetta
She look good, but she howls like an Irish Setter
She`s trying to start the song over but there`s no way I`m-a let her
Get out now, stop the bleeding, don`t wanna hear another word
`Cause you`re the worst singer that I think I`ve ever heard
I`ve heard enough now, I`m suicidal
And she still thinks she`s the next American Idol
(chorus)
You think you`s an idol, but your sound is all dull
Awful and an eyefull, stole your style from Paula
You know that she`s washed up, and that you`re no heart-throb
You are absolutely ghastly, don`t quit your day job
[verse 3]
Me I`m no monster, me I`m not raptor
Me I`m not mentor, me I`m just me, me
Me I`m no singer, me I`m no actor
But it`s me who owns the record company
Now your singing baby was a total mess
You sang flatter than Ally McBeal`s chest
And yet you think that you`re good, and ready for prime time
But there`s no future for you, well maybe as a mime
Losers sayin` that they don`t like Simon Cowell
Is it because I kinda sound like Thurston Howell?
Or is it `cause they know success takes more than just luck
And they know I`m right when I tell them they all suck
(chorus)
You think you`s a pop star, but you need to stop buggin`
If you keep on singin`, I`m-a put my ear plugs in
You ruined my favorite song, even screwed up the title
You`re a disgrace, you`re no American Idol
Next!
