I Don't Like You - The Muffs

Any kind of muscleman or freak of nature ape

Or hairy, bad breath, smelly body, covered up in brut

He likes his beef and protein smothered in Tabasco

And he beats his wife at lunch and I say

I don’t like you

I don’t like you

Flashy, glitter metalboy with poodlehead attire

Wearing spandex shirts with the rips in the right place

Worshipping the wannabes who pay to play the Whisky

And their full page ad in Bam and I say

I don’t like you

I don’t like you

Alright!

Mr. three martini lunch about to make a deal

He’s got his briefcase, suitcase all packed for Rome

He’s got a wife in limbo, kids in Chicago

And no time left for home and I say

I don’t like you

I don’t like you

I don’t like you

I don’t like you

Alright!

Alright, alright