Somebody goes and baloney's my song,
With a bunch of lame rhymes.
It's worse than Ollie and Stan,
Just what they do to my lines.

Write par-o-dy, they supply what they want to,
Why the old one-two, why the old one-two?
So rude it's true - is this amiright crew.

Ten thousand records they vanished one night,
Someone fragged up the votes file.
All Johnnies-come-in'-lately,
Their votes just ceased to compile.

They write potty, and supply what they want to,
Fry who they want to, fry who they want to.
Your votes died, oooh, - someone's zappin' on you.

Prayin' these wreckers will trash up their site,
Hope they get blown, all their files.
Poor Donny and sis Marie,
They're really crampin' their style.

They're so naughty, they fry who they want to,
Fry who they want to, fry who they want to,
No good up to, is that amiright crew.

Snooty and snotty they get so hardcore,
Make obscene what we sing.
It's all that mirth they devise,
That's truly tearin' our strings.

Write par-o-dy, they supply what they want to,
Why the old one-two, why the old one-two?
So rude it's true - is this amiright crew.