Burrito Songtext
I gotta beat this damn line, it's only 10:50
They open doors at 11, but yo I'm in a rush
I got the money to swing it as though I'm Ken Griffey
But so does this bum in front of me, smellin' like a Lush
That mental woman in front of him who forgot to brush
She's in pajama pants, sippin' on an orange Crush
The door's open, let's get it goin, let's speed it up
They lookin' up at the menu like they ain't seen it once
"Hmm I'd like the carnitas and possibly the barbacoa
Actually, I'll have the chicken, sir, 'cause my heart is slower"
But me, I get the same shit, every time
From the same kid, every time
And he doesn't recognize me, every time
So I gotta say it over, every time
Normally, I'm not the type to bitch
But look, um, you're being kinda stingy on the stoopage(?)
I asked for double meat, and man I know you're not a new kid
So why you tryna screw me out of food, you think I'm stupid?
I know I'm 10 bucks, tell him keep the nickel tip, and
I grab a fork and grab a seat and eat it extra quick, and
Suddenly I'm feeling queasy, kinda extra sick and
Sweatin bullets, tell me what was in that bitter chicken

My stomach twistin' and turnin' and now my head is spinnin'
I stagger out the booth and bump into a group of women
They treat me like a leper 'cause I'm looking ill, as in sick
I got chills and I'm wishin' for a new beginning
I need room to sit in, I need a room to shit in
It seems like everybody else that ordered food is grinnin'
In a panic, I hit the bathroom like "open up"
But there's no fucking answer, and the doors: they're bolted shut
I try and get an employee and she's like "yo whats up"
I said "I gotta get inside, I feel like throwin' up"
Well I'm prairie doggin' everything
I'm dancing by myself like Billy Idol tryna hold it in
Finally, I'm in, I'm sprayin' like an automatic
Ratta-tat-tat, and then all the puke and shit scattered
It's safe to say this is a shitty way to start the weekend
I'm feelin weakened, got Chipotle comin out of each end
When you consider what I ate, it probably makes complete sense
Plus the guy that served it looked like three-tenths of a
Weakened dead's(?) freak with a deep sense of allegiance to Pete Wentz
Hence the motherfuckin pretense
It's lookin like I need some D-Pants
The bile comin out of me could fill up the deep-end
This is revenge