hAnDs OfF mY MaCaRoNi

Somebody once told me,
Hands off my macaroni,
Milwaukee pasta bandit found dead,
He was pickin' up the gun, with his finger and his thumb,
raising up, pointed straight, at his forehead,

Well,
The pasta starts cookin' and it doesn't stop cookin'
Fed to my mouth, and I eat without rushin',
Didn't make sense to eat without fun,
Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb.

So much to eat, so much to eat,
So what's wrong with bakin' the fat treats?
Let me know if you don't dough,
You'll never shine if you don't know.

Hey now, you have pasta,
Get your game on, go play,
Hey now, you have pasta,
Put the dough on, get paid.

(All that's bitter is mold)

Only pasta sauce makes the gold

It's a cold place, and it only gets colder,
You're getting stale now, wait 'till you get older,
But the medium rare beg to differ,
But don't even ask the liquor.

The icy gate is gettin' pretty thin,
The milk's gettin' warm, you might as well swim,
My sauce is on fire, how about yours?
I like it that way 'cuz I never get poured.

Hey now, you have pasta,
Get your game on, go play,
Hey now, you have pasta,
Put the dough on, get paid.

(All that's bitter is mold)

Only pasta sauce makes the gold...
the end