Kick, punch, you all remember
Chop chop back again yes forever,
You have many challenges comin at ya
First is a fire, don't retire, now
Pick, Burn, Slide, and Down, again now
Pick, Burn, Slide, and Down
Listen to me now as I do my chore,
Nobody ever talks to me no more,
But if a baby were to come, crying out loud,
Do you think you can play and calm it down?
Or, if you're on a plane, how would you play?
Throttle up and down, or away
I just wanna know, can you really go,
With that guitar in hand, I don't know,
Comin' at ya
Fly high, Sky high, Cry loud, Shut up,
Fly, Cry, Pick, Burn, Pick, Cry, and Fly, Down,
Shake it to the right, shake it to the left
I be the only masta that will give
all the necessary skills to build a guitar,
So you can play in Hell, you come far!
Chop, Choke
Pick Chop Burn! Cry Fly Choke!
Burn Cry Slide! Chop Pick Fly!
Choke Fly Pick! Cry Chop Down! Ha ha,
Pick Burn Cry! Cry Fly Chop!
Pick Burn'n Cry! Fly Chop Choke!
PICK BURNIN' CRY FLY, CHOP CHOKE!
I AM A MASTA, AND YOU!?
"Ha, Lammy, look what you're holding in your hand."
"I don't know. What is it??"
A strong comment here is specific: the phrase you keep hearing, the mood you come back for, or the reason this song stays in rotation.
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