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Little fishnets on, him hanging onto the back of you.
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Oh, that's nice, that's nice.
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That's tough talk coming from a fucking armchair general.
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Why don't you put your feet up on a pouf
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And go back to sleep?
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Tucker, you might be a scary little poodle fucker
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Back there in London,
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But here you're nothing.
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You know what you look like?
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A squeezed dick.
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You've got a little blue vein
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Running up the side of your head.