Puke歌词
作词 : Luis Resto/Steve King/Marshall Mathers/Brian May
作曲 : Luis Resto/Steve King/Marshall Mathers/Brian May
There I go, thinking of you again
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem
But off of the dome would probably be a little more
More suitable for this type of song, whoa
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I could think of
Sixteen bars just ain't enough to put some ink to
So **** it, I'ma start right here, I'll just be brief, I'm
'Bout to rattle off some of the reasons
I knew I shouldn't go and get another tattoo
Of you on my arm, but what do I go and do?
I go and get another one, now I got two
(Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Now I'm sitting here with your name on my skin
I can't believe I went and did this stupid **** again
My next girlfriend, now her name's gotta be Kim (Shi-i-i-i-i-i-it)
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every single freakin' thing you've ever put us through
Then I wouldn't be standing here crying over you
(Boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-hoo)
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter
But I thought a song would probably be a little better
Instead of a letter that you'd probably just shred up, yeah
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made me stop and think of
How much of a waste it'd be for me to put some ink to
A stupid piece of, paper, I'd rather let you see how
Much I freakin' hate you in a freestyle
You're a freakin' piece of poop, I hope you freakin' die
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your freakin' guts, you piece of poop, I hope you die
(Di-i-i-i-i-i-ie)
But please don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter or mad
It's not that I still love you, it's not 'cause I want you back
It's just that when I think of you it makes me wanna yack
(A-a-a-a-a-a-ack)
But what else can I do? I haven't got a clue
Now I guess I'll just move on, I have no choice but to
But every time I think of you now all I wanna do is pu-u-u-u-u-u-uke
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
Ah, damn!
作曲 : Luis Resto/Steve King/Marshall Mathers/Brian May
There I go, thinking of you again
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little poem
But off of the dome would probably be a little more
More suitable for this type of song, whoa
I got a million reasons off the top of my head that I could think of
Sixteen bars just ain't enough to put some ink to
So **** it, I'ma start right here, I'll just be brief, I'm
'Bout to rattle off some of the reasons
I knew I shouldn't go and get another tattoo
Of you on my arm, but what do I go and do?
I go and get another one, now I got two
(Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh)
Now I'm sitting here with your name on my skin
I can't believe I went and did this stupid **** again
My next girlfriend, now her name's gotta be Kim (Shi-i-i-i-i-i-it)
If you only knew how much I hated you
For every single freakin' thing you've ever put us through
Then I wouldn't be standing here crying over you
(Boo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oo-hoo)
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
I was gonna take the time to sit down and write you a little letter
But I thought a song would probably be a little better
Instead of a letter that you'd probably just shred up, yeah
I stumbled on your picture yesterday and it made me stop and think of
How much of a waste it'd be for me to put some ink to
A stupid piece of, paper, I'd rather let you see how
Much I freakin' hate you in a freestyle
You're a freakin' piece of poop, I hope you freakin' die
I hope you get to hell and Satan sticks a needle in your eye
I hate your freakin' guts, you piece of poop, I hope you die
(Di-i-i-i-i-i-ie)
But please don't get me wrong, I'm not bitter or mad
It's not that I still love you, it's not 'cause I want you back
It's just that when I think of you it makes me wanna yack
(A-a-a-a-a-a-ack)
But what else can I do? I haven't got a clue
Now I guess I'll just move on, I have no choice but to
But every time I think of you now all I wanna do is pu-u-u-u-u-u-uke
You don't know how sick you make me
You make me freakin' sick to my stomach
Every time I think of you I puke
You must just not kno-o-o-o-o-o-ow
You may not think you do, but you do
Every time I think of you I puke
Ah, damn!
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