Текст: Sudden Death. Unplugged. Silicon Valley.

At home, Friday night, and I'm checkin' out the Playboy Channel
But it might be too much for me to handle
'Cause I start to drool as she's gettin' undressed
I see a beautiful woman with a speed bump on her chest
Yo, what the Hell, who's idea was that
Those things look defective, she should take 'em back
I'm sick of it, this ain't what I paid for at all
If I wanted fake breasts I would have bought a Barbie doll
Why would a woman do something that drastic
Lookin' like a mannequin, rigid and plastic
Don't deny it, that's a design
Of the ACME Inflatable Bustline
To the untrained eye, yo, they may look fine
But to a pervert like me, yo, they're easy to find
I can pick out the point where the breast begins
Like she's hiding two basketballs under her skin
Big or small it doesn't matter at all
As long as they're not made from a silicon ball
Fake breasts don't bounce, don't move, don't try
So you'd better be careful, you might lose an eye
Eighty-four, twenty-four, thirty-four, please no more
They're so big they don't fit out the door
Artificially implanted sex appeal
I'm givin' new meaning to the phrase "get real"
("Do you like boobs a lot?") More than you know
But I don't like pizza made of play-dough
Are those things real? My oh my
Or did an animal crawl up your shirt and die
How much did you pay for what we see
Did it come with a thirty year warrantee
Did you have the choice of size, shape and design
You made your points, I just made mine