Dee Wee (my Friend The Massive Idiot) Lyrics

He said he'd be here at seven
The clock just hit 7:22
It's too cold outside
To wait for my ride
Watching mama try out a new doo (Bruins)

He said he'd be here at seven
But it just hit 7:35 (already?)
Here in Brockton, Mass.,
I got my thumb in my ass
Mama's combing up a big beehive (Celtics)

Where the f*ck is he?
Where the f*ck is he?

The bitch doesn't even bother calling
Even though it's 7:44 (I fell asleep, pally)
I'm feeling kinda antsy
Mama's getting fancy
Slicking back a wet pompadour (Red Sox)

He said he'd be here at seven
It's closing in on 8:01 (Trimmin' the ÂÂ'stache, kid)
Me lookin' like a sap
In a wool knit cap
Mama's next move is a bun (f*ckin' Patriots)

Where the f*ck is he? (My pants are still in the dryer, dude)
Where the f*ck is he? (I couldn't find my f*ckin' snowboots, pal) I wish I had a car (Huge, huge hangover)
Oh, no (Massive hailstorm, massive hailstorm, massive)

That stupid little punk
He's probably f*ckin' drunk
I bet he drank a case
Wanna pop him in the face right now
Mama's eyebrow

Wicked good
Wicked good (Oh, GOD)
Wicked good
Wicked good (f*ck yeah)
Wicked good
Wicked good (Pisser?)

Well my friend is still a no-show
And I'm getting' f*cking pissed (Why?)
ÂÂ'Cause I could've gone with Charlie
In the side of his Harley
Mama's on the phone with a stylist (f*ck Charlie!)

So I guess I ain't going out tonight
ÂÂ'Cause the digits say 12:09 (Shit-faced)
But call the operator
ÂÂ'Cause one perm later
Mama's hair sure do look fine (Heffenreffer!!!)

Where the f*ck

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