[Intro]

Give us something man, hey. I'm, uh, I'm on the guest list, yeah. (Who is--) I'm a headliner here tonight, yeah, I'm on their list, I'm on their list. Busdriver. B-U-S--Yes, me, that's me. Um, well I should be on there, so... well... um... Jeez, I dunno what to tell you

[Verse 1]

They want to hear good freestyling (Real good)

With sarcasm of Woody Allen (Real good)

Their parents own oil rigs, they're just some spoiled kids

Who I must aim to please

And so I'm dipped in a syrup vat (Dipped!)

And you know this town is a tourist trap (Yes)

Run by entertainment industries and the bureaucrats

Selling the ultimate brain freeze (That's me)

This year I'm Sambo, I'm on the Clear Channel

I'm smiling and reading my parchment of prose

I talk of the common man and of the promised land

But I'm insincere and make the Marxists doze

My head was a jar of lit bulbs

I used to make viewers carsick at shows

But now I'm easily the most compromising slut

Oh, it's hard to keep this harlot clothed (Really?)

I network and do more than schmooze

I start licking toes

Underground rappers smell like garlic cloves

But me, I'm smug and decadent

Paid obscenely to appear at a set event

Companies license my likeliness

Money, it heightens my flighty fits

I wrote the great American pop song stylized to my respective tiny niche

[Hook]

I wasn't invited to your shindig

I got no plus-one and a low slush fund

I never expected to ever win big

I never expected for you to open my press kit

I wasn't invited to your shindig

I got no plus-one and a low slush fund

I never expected to ever win big

[Verse 2]

The attendance is always subpar (Sucky!)

When I perform at a club or bar

Why did I choose to do weird shit

I steered my career off the cliff in a flaming stunt car

So now I'm falling down a bottomless pit (Falling!)

But I'm trying to be optimistic (Please!)

I spin microwaveable plates

But the label prorates nothing

My arms are to cotton pick with

Look at the poignant portraits in my doodle sketch

Meaning and art exude with every brush stroke

But my promises of revolution are futile threats

I'm so over-sensitive, my crotch is blood-soaked

I'll African dance and cast a voodoo hex while in your dorm and spilling all the bong water

And count the stars in the nebula until up to the googolplex while selling you sticks of nag champa

I dumbfound in the coffee shop

Looking like Jean-Michel Basquiat

And kill gaudy pop with dirty laundry smell

Acting all foolhardy

Leaving kids oddly distraught

Gentle laughter when I'm telling jokes at your dead pool party

I am a necromancer of an exquisite corpse

I'll cry ten minutes in your wet tennis court (Invite me!)

'Cause I wasn't invited

[Hook]

I wasn't invited to your shindig

I got no plus-one and a low slush fund

I never expected to ever win big

I never expected for you to open my press kit

I wasn't invited to your shindig

I got no plus-one and a low slush fund

I never expected to ever win big

[Outro]

They gave all the super fans with notable computer tans

Secret decoder rings have replaced the older scene with cooler bands

They gave all the super fans with notable computer tans

Secret decoder rings have replaced the older scene with cooler bands