Lyrics
Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
I said, change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
Thank you ladies and gentlemen
I’d like to introduce a little thing I like to call, the band
Let’s start with the man behind the piano
He’s a maestro, a master, a man of many melodies
Including the Melody who’s the hostess of the Daily Grill
If you lose your keys, he can find them!
He’s a «Prodigy», as in psychosomatic-addict insane
He’s sitting on his stool, Bobby Ricotta!
Thank you Bobby
And now on bass, he’s high-strung
He’s a stand-up guy. He’s in an upright and locked position!
He knows the BASIC programming language!
He’s the low man on the totem pole!
He’s Deep Gordon Brie!
Danke, Gordon
And now on drums, on skins, on the trap-set, the cocktail kit, the thing you
that you hit with the thingies
He’s a slick click to pick with a stick!
He’s back with another one of them Block Rockin' Beats!
His middle name is Tom!
He’s «cymbal-ic»! We’re talking «brush with greatness!»
He likes to bang the drum slowly if you know what I mean, and I think you do,
AM I RIGHT PEOPLE?!
Mr. Bobby Gouda!
Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
Change my pitch up, smack… bitch…up
Whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa
Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
Change my pitch up, smack my bitch up
Ouch!