Double Dip Grande

 

Got knobby tan legs and a sculpted nose

New hair on his head

He's a bourgeois bohemian

But he keeps his progeny fed

Got a nasty little wife from New Rochelle

Self-help books in her head

Once killed a man with their SUV

And took the President to bed

Now they're both approaching

The Dollar Sign Coffee Bar they can smell

And if they be so inclined

Can gargle at that well

 

With a cafe latte, double dip grande

Soy milk espresso, decaf coffee

Hurry up, they're on a power roll

Well they don't tip, just sip, hands on the money

Smoke grass, burn gas, do their pilates

And they'll still be here

When the bells begin to toll

 

Well he made his money from a TV show

About a talking chicken coop

Reinvents himself on the weekends

On the deck of his racing sloop

She's concerned about safety

Met Rosie and Tipper Gore

Took a big kickback from the poultry farm

Where the bou-bo does his chores

First you load in the hens

Push the cameras in

Then you lay in a couple of jokes

About a Vietnam Vet from Idaho

Who cries at the smell of smoke

Got little red phones from Finland

Tucked beneath their wads

Never feel alone when they're on those phones

And they never have to listen to God

 

With a cafe latte, double dip grande

Soy milk espresso, decaf coffee.

Hurry up, they're on a power roll

Well they don't tip, just sip, hands on the money

Smoke grass, burn gas, do their pilates

And they'll still be here

When the bells begin to toll

 

©2005 / Words & Music by Patrick Weathers / Timber Sheik Songs, BMI

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