Lyrics
He walks down the street, wearing flip flops
Same thing every day he doesn't shop
Watching him day to day put's a smile on my face.
His glasses on, and his goatee wow he's a disgrace
Paint on his shorts and stains on his white t-shirt his girlfriend piece of shit.
When he pees, lucky charms come out of his ears
I bet you didn't know his pubes were pink
Shorts and T-shirt guy was Playgirl's Mr. October
Grease in his hair, he doesn't care
He walks on tippy toes
His taint smells like roast beef and eggs
Where does he get his clothes
He plugs his asshole
Every night so nothing leaks
The disgusting smell of anal juice comes out when he speaks
CHORUS
He's 6 foot 5, barely alive smelling like feces, fat as hell, with a story to tell, he's another kind of species, winter time, I cannot rhyme, he seems so shy. Put on some pants and cover your back, he's the shorts and t-shirt guy.
Truth is that I think youre cute and Id like to get to know you
Im not gay but I could change I just hope youre not a jew
Your uncircumsized dick smells weird and you piss on your balls
Shorts and T-Shirt guy why don't you ever return my calls, I love you.