Parking Violation

Intro:

(All staff may come to the packaging room)

*beeping*

 

Verse 1:

Walking to the ShopRite

I stop when I see the streetlight

I’m less than devastating

I cannot be a mean sight

I see a hobo smoking in the packaging room

And the employees only bathroom is stock full of goons

This is a mystery

A day of infamy

A parking guarantee and volunteer I shed a tear

When I see this damn 6-pack beer

I’m left to rear the sight of mere

Coincidence I left I’m smokin’ that EDP pack on the full day

I got location, got loc nation, forwardation

I forward this crap to the room, rumble humble

And when the fat man sits down he stumbles

On the chair, ain’t ever got no mobility scooters

I keep getting ruder and see this man, he’s a booter

I come up to him and say things even more so

I’m glad you haven’t seen the damn grease on your torso

I’m takin’ shots like Manson, ay

I’m-a-go never ever dancin’, ay

Never the epitome of a Hanson

And I haven’t even got a parking violation

Let alone a ticket, stop, record my interpolation, yeah

 

Chorus:

Good morning, U.S.A.

I got a feeling that it’s gonna be a wonderful day

The sun in the sky high with a smiley face

Shining salute to the American race (yessir)

 

Verse 2:

Ordered a saddle and a couple of paddles

Thinking of making game when the fat dude waddles

I keep gettin’ here sooner

I could not be more ruder

Than a parking violation on a scooter, ay

I know this is comedy, but a sketch of me is dissin’ me

The epitome of a get-rid-of-me sign in Mississippi

This isn’t me, this is a mystery, in infamy, a complete full history

His-story, her-story this is blitzkrieg jeeps, rolling in with guacamole

Saying I’m a test of me but the rest of me is saying hell yes to me

Well let this be, take a bee, sting him in full blitzkrieg, taking E

Faking E, heck no to be, heck no to E, I say it’s bitter rivalry

They’re the boss and they’re the victim

Watching me get mossed on a track field

Ain’t a sauce but I sure will rid him

Gimme a ride, I’ll pay for a ticket

It’s sick, it

Never fails to bad-chick it

Ain’t this tap bad chicken (ay)

 

Chorus:

Good morning, U.S.A.

I got a feeling that it’s gonna be a wonderful day

The sun in the sky high with a smiley face

Shining salute to the American race (yessir)