OK everybody, we're the hi-tech gurus,
All the rage, always on the front page news,
TV and video, here to go-go,
On Radio PWEI, turn it on and turn it up high,
Like a ten truck, don't give a fuck,
And if you don't like the Poppies that's your hard luck...
We cut and strut with military precision,
All cards are marked; unanimous decision!
It's finger-licking finger-clicking,
My mike sounds nice and the beatbox ticking,
Squeal like an eel, squirm like a worm,
We're hot getting hotter... making ears burn!
CHORUS
Talking! Huh?
Talking! What?
Talking to you!
We can rap we can sing a thing or two for you.
We'll talk of anything, everything if you want, thing,
The sky is the limit, the limit is the sky,
Why? PWE... I
Say don't worry, no hurry to fret,
No jest, the best is yet to come
And some are just dumb when they say it's no fun...
They gotta learn, we're seriously delirious,
The force is here with us...
We ain't joking, we're just poking fun
At those poking guns up each others asses
At each and every turn.
Rock so hard there's no time to roll
When the Poppies are on patrol, on patrol, on patrol,
CHORUS
One-two check hi-tech in stereo, quadro,
Anyway you go but loose, one-oh-oh-one uses,
We got the juice to bruise the fuses
The volume in this room is much too groomed,
We need a big bad boom!
Noise K.O.! Disco inferno! Hey ho... yo! Let's go!
Gonna rock the show, blow the speakers, see them glow,
So now you know it's not what you do,
But the way that you do it,
The speakers you blew but the way that you blew it,
PWEI always knew it,
We'll teach them all this song, it won't take long...
Did it? We're through with it, hit it!