G tok

Lyrics

THE GOLDEN TOK [Verse 1] There’s three dumb bastards from the G.U. crew, Ain’t a normal fucking thing between the three of you. One gets hard when the mustard hits the plate, French, Dijon, yellow — brother don’t discriminate. He don’t need candles, don’t need no wine, Just squeeze that bottle and he’s feelin’ fine. You hear that cap pop — his eyes roll back, Motherfucker’s got a condiment attack. [Chorus] We’re the Golden Tok, cock-a-doodle-doo, Three fucked-up cowboys from the G.U. crew. One loves mustard, one’s elbow’s gone to shit, And one’s so damn hairy you can’t see where his back ends and his ass begins. Golden Tok! Yeah, the classiest boys around, Yvette starts cluckin’ and we all gather ’round. No dignity, no shame, no brakes, no clock, Long live the bastards of the Golden Tok! [Verse 2] Second boy showed up sayin’, “Boys, I’m hurt,” We said, “What happened? You fall face-first in the dirt?” He said, “Nah, boys… it’s worse than that somehow… I think I’m fuckin’ crippled in my elbow now.” Can’t walk with his arm, can’t run with his wrist, Medical science ain’t seen shit like this. Doctor took one look, said, “Son, what the fuck?” He said, “My elbow’s mank.” Doc said, “Well… good luck.” [Chorus] We’re the Golden Tok, cock-a-doodle-doo, Three fucked-up cowboys from the G.U. crew. One loves mustard, one’s elbow’s gone to shit, And one’s so damn hairy you can’t see where his back ends and his ass begins. [Verse 3] Third man’s back is a national park, Hair so thick it gets cold after dark. Looks like a grizzly got drunk one night, And left his winter coat glued on tight. More fur on his shoulders than a bear on his sack, You could lose a fucking Labrador somewhere on his back. We tried to shave him — burned out the machine, Now Philips won’t honor the warranty. [Bridge] Then Yvette comes struttin’ through the yard, Feathers lookin’ fine, attitude hard. The boys start yellin’, “YVETTE! YVETTE!” Like three drunk idiots who lost a bet. She pecks one boot, she steals one fry, Mustard-boy damn near starts to cry. Elbow-boy salutes, Hairback goes “TOK!” And that’s how they founded the Golden Tok. [Final Chorus] We’re the Golden Tok, fucked from birth, Probably the dumbest three men on Earth. Mustard on the table, fucked-up elbow in stock, And enough back hair to clog a barbershop. Raise your beer, boys, let the whole world know, There ain’t no lower left for us to go. Yvette runs the farm, and the idiots talk— ALL HAIL THE BOYS OF THE… GOLDEN FUCKING TOK! TOK TOK, MOTHERFUCKERS.