Lyrics:

Forty-five minutes forty-five cents sixty-five agents sitting on a fence singing, heh brother look what we got for you we're gonna rope off an area and put on a show from the Canadian border down to Mexico it might be the most potentially gross thing that we could possibly do yeah, little buddy gonna get your chance make them pubescents all wet their pants we'll record it live and that's no jive. Hold it! Stop it! No! No! No! No! Bang! went the pistol. Crash! went the window. Ouch! went the son of a gun. Onomatopoeia I don't wanna see ya Speaking in a foreign tongue.