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80s Pop Rock - The Cars Shake It Up 2017 Remaster Lyrics

("Checkmate, sucka, not a move, game's over!")
Who's that walking with a hole in his head?
Big bad Bazooka Tooth, I came to break bread
What's a troop's recipe for treacherous times?
I tell 'em... ah, fuck it, yo!
I pull the elephant tranq out of my neck
Gaffle a tank, count up the chips, wrastle the fangs off of my fist
Flood a little soldier blood over the ogre acres
On some holiday in Cambodia with motor-home appraisers
Pagans fade into the Kodachrome - now, later
With a lid to brow staple
Revisit the cobra loading zone
Molar foaming, but he hold his own wound
Cauterized, by the Zippo he had stole that afternoon
And my dog tags jingle by the monster island heart he built
Grew up with a jughead crown tilt and tardy slip
"Be all you can be" just never soothed us (Nope!)
You lost me in that part about scrubbing piss with a toothbrush
Holler scum's lullaby
Live from the ultra-fly, sham city bunker
Where the coldest cults multiply alarmingly
Hush little baby, timeout!
The black market mockingbirds can not sing a lick
But learn to peck your eyes out
Of commission with love, out a tradition of wraiths
Pick on the visions that buzz, bet on the kitten's escape
Solder the piston to pump - out a veteran amplifier
And magnify through the same lens that set the ants on fire
Flush the moppet hootenanny
Who could fancy, honor circuit when the circle's every duke is clammy?
Trooper, scoop the food in pantry
Ante up, stupid!
May delusion feed em foofi candy
And pry the gold out of his tooth when lamping
Pocket all you can now
Block' will lead the lambs down
To the cold cutlery outfit, slaughter beef and cow tip
Pour the chief some fountain soda, motor prone to pen the holy opus
And pry this monkey off the Scoliosis like
Who's that walking with a hole in his head?
Bazooka Tooth, gemini, I came to break bread
What's a troop's recipe for treacherous times?
I tell 'em fast cars, danger, fire and knives, let's go
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
I got her majesty Athena riding shotty wide-eyed
It's like never mind the bollocks
Fuck, like every other week these hipster tabloids
Jumping on and off my Sex Pistol's bullets
Like every other week he spins the bottle
Like every other week these fucking fanzines forget if they spit or swallow
Too bad your inner sheep never forgets to follow
Cause my inner greed to feed your hate for loving us is hostile
Fortunate for me, it coincides with what comes natural
So the mongrels that I run with turn the "fuck you's" into fast food
Like a little freak sick of the 3 o'clock bully knuckle dust
Nursing his last shiner, finds the shoebox in his mother's truck (uh-oh)
Tomorrow's extra curricular punching bag
Will finger daddy's widow maker out a brown lunch bag (bang)
This is where the hunch back snake oil peddlers
Stuck under the burgundy sky of spaghetti westerns
Tend to bubble up, weathermen huddle up
Today, the son of one too many "yes sir's"
Kings his checkers, watch the double jump
Back with a platter of hot leeches that'll drink up-every bloody drop down
To the last diseases, it's A-E-S-O-P-R-O-C-K, the peak twister
Defender of the son of Vaughn Bode's Cheech Wizard
I used to pray the treatments got easier with my aging
Like Serotonin weekends was merely comedic hazing
Wrong, but along his travels located the key to world peace:
Kill every motherfucker but me
You cool with that? Cool, bang
You? Cool, hang
You? No? Uh..bang? Cool
Sorry, dog, rules is rules
And too long have I followed yours
I'm trying to get them years back
And walk through every Cypher with dynamite in a beer hat
Who's that walking with a hole in his head?
Bazooka Tooth Krueger, I came to break bread
What's a troop's recipe for treacherous times?
I tell 'em fast cars, danger, fire and knives, let's go
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
Fast cars, danger, fire and knives
I got her majesty Athena riding shotty wide-eyed