Dark mode
PLAY
F.E.M.I.N.A.Z.I (edit)
PLAY
Like all good country songs this one is being f***ed over by a woman. Not actually a country song but it steals influence from both post depression bluegrass and post coital hip hop. A savage blend of simple tunesmithery and coarse lyircs.
Free
Creative Commons license
Commercial uses of this track are NOT allowed
Adaptations of this track are NOT allowed to be shared
You must attribute the work in the manner specified by the artist
Alternative - Alternative General
Previous peak charts position #140
Previous peak charts position in subgenre #47
Rampant Jake Bullets / J did the good wordage
Rampant Jake Bullets Moonshine Jug Band
April 01, 2013
MP3 6.8 MB
128 kbps bitrate
7:22 minutes
Story behind the song
Women. Women with guns. Women with guns who used to date me and are now really pissed off and want to make holes in my soft rubella scarred body.
Lyrics
She's Betty Boop in jackboots, threatening but still cute Armed to the Benoit tooth on the mall roof Looking eye to eye, crosshairs in her vision But re-rewind to the very beginning I was depressed as the horse in the never ending story Life was missing a point like the stars on old glory Was as single as the number of riffs That Status Quo have and as fake as their hips Though the lonely hearts column should be labelled fiction Here I would be meeting my leather bound vixen Resetting my bones would become her addiction This is what was written by my S and M Nixon Wanted - one loser who waited for the Phantom Menace Then descended into misery their dream had ended Cry heresy "it's a digital Mohammed" Now you're whining like the hero in a never ending Meatloaf ballad She needs someone who's life is irrelevent As the back catalogue of Led Zeppelin Who's willing to wait for Chinese Democracy Or Alanis Morrissette to make a follow up LP Damn she sounds like my biographer But after we met I thought there's something wrong with her She took control and made me her b*** Now I can empathise with David Furnish Fast forward to the months that had just passed She's Mary Poppin- a cap in yo ass She's Blanche Dubois with a mastectomy scar This may be an amorous faux pas She ruled my world and I tried to please her She had a heart condition like Julius Seizure Learnt her technique from Lynette England That Abu Ghraib babe with a triple k following She tried to analyze me, tried to get Freudian Gave me self help books by Doctor Kevorkian I was strapped for cash like education funding Unappreciated as David Blaine in London She thought music would put me out of her misery She checked all my records like Homeland Security Song after song to find messages in Played 'em backwards - I thought it was Aphex Twin Your list of demands wasn't too blase And in it you proposed a little tete a tete But you mean Tet as in the Vietnam offensive F*** off it's the seventh amendment "You must go up there" No I really mustn't "She only got nine bullets" oh a lepers dozen Rampant Jake Kissinger that ain't my name I'd sort more of her breakdowns that Triple A (pre) F.E.M.I.N.A.Z.I F.E.M.I.N.A she's my (chorus) Hitler with boobs, my rubix cube, my drunken bid on eBay My Saddam with curves, my chain smoking, my forty years of McMininum wage My Blossom without Six, my Hasbro crucifix, my Oscar winning Dolph Lundgren My Burt Reynolds surgeon, my Herman perversion, my Smashing Pumpkins reunion I needed guidance to stop the violence Before I ended up a Columbo assignment Radio shows would only leave me on hold Dear Abby said "Back to the kitchen you go" But the best advice that I ever did get I found it on the packaging that came with Playtex It pretty much said that we should split up It also seems that I need a c-cup Seperate and lift, seperate and lift My life would be much happier if you weren't in it We had a real connection but it got dropped As if AOL was the server for love I will label her like Ric Flair and Madonna She's one of those people who keep her clothes on her If I told you her age she'd probably shoot me But she can remember good Steve Martin movies But there's more to be told, think I'm being unfair It's not as black and white as a Quaker's fetishwear You know I always liked to lie in bed with you But I mean lie as in not tell tell the truth I will raise my hands but they're already raised And admit some mistakes that I made in my day Charlie Manson ain't the old guy in Home Alone And the honey monster doesn't have down syndrome Fozzie Bear didn't become a priest when he suffered No he wasn't the Pastor Of Muppets And the bible doesn't have a new feminist clause "But if god is a woman, then she's hit the menopause" I wouldn't call it lying it's romantic perjury Because I got delusions of adequacy Now my hands are shaking 'cos my lies are unravelling Not because I spent the nineteen eighties time travelling She cals me a pussy, one of the cowardly men But if I am a chicken then she's a battery hen "Don't argue with her, you'll just make it worse You're meant to fake that you like her like we do with Fred Durst" "But I've seen better acting in Starship Troopers Heard more seductive lines from the pen of George Lucas" The one about the sand? "That's the one I was thinking of Now get her down before a Levi profit drop" A simple serenade's what she's demanding Let's see how romantic I can get when I'm standing Witha red dot on my head not because I'm a Sikh And no I'm not an extra in Predator 3 Ok, I'll change my ways and from this moment on I'll be the most romantic guy y'ever scared with a gun I will open your door and I will pull out your chair I won't push your f*** ing mother down the motherf*** ing stairs (pre) (chorus) Is this Rodeo and Juliet or Bara and the lovely Pet? I ain't got the impetus just the impotence Come on now baby, ol' blue eyes is back "The zombie Sinatra? Is he with the rot pack?" No matter what I say we can't negotiate It's Bambi's mom versus the NRA My passion was burning like a suburb of Paris But like Affleck's career it is now ashes There's only one way I can think to stop her Gotta tell her the truth about Harry Potter And how the next book ain't how he got hooked On heroin, crack and all the drugs that he took When he found out his parents were drunk and uncaring The main(line) title the cover is wearing Ain't called Harry Potter And The Spear Of Woe "Still he could've got adopted by Mia Farrow" She doubted my music, said I'd never be famous We're as accesible as a coma victim's anus Think I'm that desperate to find success That I'd do the vocals to Merry Christmas R-2? You think I should give up, admit I've wasted my life And become a kept man like Gwen Stefani's wife? I don't need anyone's help you redneck Barbie I can make it on my own "Oh, like Stella McCartney" She says I smoke too much to ever be a singer You're like Margot Kidder with an itchy trigger finger No, baby, please don't, no , no, no baby don't About now I realised I weren't gonna be fine I was bleeding from regions I thought girls had monopolised And so I ran my primary function is panic If I was in the Mister Men I'd be Little Miss Carriage Or if Charlton Heston had popped the question To Lorena Wayne Bobbitt then this situation Wouldn't seem that strange on the pages of country I think she's the link between man and (sock) monkey Put my John Hancock on my own toe tag 'Cos I'm leaving a trail like Gretel on the rag It's GPS fluid, no hope of losing her She's Judy, jury and executioner I hid in the grammar section of Toy 'R' Us Where Shania weeps "That don't impress me much" My death knell sounded out on a Tomy It's like receiving the last rites from Kenny G Would I be the first martyr of Fisher Price And be a trophy husband, but the literal kind She may get twenty years but I'll be out in seven It's never a sentence, more a serving suggestion (pre) (chorus)
On 1 playlists
Playlist