SONGS
Blame it on the girls who know what to do
Blame it on the boys who keep hitting on you
Blame it on your mother for the things she said
Blame it on your father but you know he's dead
So first of all we gon' work on the stomach
Nobody wants a little tight ass!
Could you believe
The same old story
Yeah it never bores me,
though I've heard it all before
With friends like these well, who needs enemies