Lyrics
Beer, same thing now, who knew that beer-flavoured
Beer would be a special order? You had this experience yet in New York City
Huh? You're walking around in a neighbourhood you don't live in
But you've seen a million times before, and you see a brand-new bar
That looks like an Irish bar, right? You walk in with your friend
Still looks like an Irish bar, there's a bartender behind the bar
You walk up and go, "Hey, how's about a couple of Budweiser?"
I can't do that, why not? "Well, because this isn't really a bar"
Oh, well, what is it? "This is a microbrewery"
Oh, really, asshole, well, why don't you go in the back and microbrew
Me up a batch of fucking Budweiser then, okay?
Because this is America, and I am very thirsty, pull up your pants
Microbrewery, you can't even order a shot of whiskey anymore
Without some special little story being attached to it
You want a boiler, that's a tough word or two
Gimme a shot of whiskey, oh, that's not just whiskey
Okay, what is it? "That's 182-year-old oak barrel family recipe
Sipping whiskey" oh, really, watch this
Clang, gimme another one, alright? Then gimme another
And I'm gonna sip the whole fucking bottle, asshole, alright?
And get two bowls of pretzels out here too, shithead
Special family recipe, you know what? Sip this, sip this right here
My brother-in-law comes over, last Christmas
Hey man, look what I got you for Christmas
What's that? "Special Sam Adams Christmas beer dispenser, man"
Oh, really? "Yeah, six different flavours, you know what?"
"Put it in the fridge, put it in the bottom of the fridge and bury it"
So months go by, of course, right?
And now I'm watching the hockey playoffs
I'm eating pretzels, and I'm thirsty, and I'm thinking
Oh, man, oh, the team's tight, I go up, I open the refrigerator door
And I can see a beer out of the corner, my eye I grab it
I pull the cap off, I've almost scored, cranberry ale
Cranberry nut, crunch fucking ale, let me tell you something folks
Cranberries and beer do not go together, okay?
One's for bladder infections, one's for getting drunk
Yes, yes, I'm 40, I don't need to be standing in my kitchen
Tasting cranberries during a hockey game
I take a look at the label of my beer
You know who's on my beer label?
Santa Claus is on my beer label
Santa -, I swear to God
You know, Mike Ditka can be on my beer label
Dick Butkis, Cindy Crawford, they can all be on my beer label
Not fucking Santa, okay?
Let's put the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy on there too
Call it Pussy Ale while you're at it, go ahead
Oh, my God
Pete's Brew, Pete's Wicked Brew, Pete's Wicked Summer Brew
Who the fuck is Pete? Fuck Pete, Pete, Pete
I can't believe I have to get angry about this shit
I never thought they'd change, the beer and the coffee, who knew?
I'm gonna open my own bar, okay
It's gonna be the most retro bar in the history of New York
They're gonna serve coffee, donuts, cigarettes, beer, and whiskey
And that's it, that's it, that's right
I'm gonna call it McLeary's
We're gonna play the Rolling Stones 24 hours a day
And you know what, if I see just a millimetre of underwear, you're out
I'm gonna have a big metal detector to get all those cock ring guys too
Right at the front door, beep, beep, beep, you got a cock ring?
"Uh, no" you lyin' piece of shit, get out, turn up the stones
All stones, all the time, no house, no techno, no rave
No Puff Daddy, no H.R. Puffinstuff, no Puff the Magic Dragon
No Chemical Brothers, no Chemical Sisters, no hip trip skip fucking hop
No, stones 24 hours a day, that's right
All we do is we drink, we cry, we fart, and we fight, that's it
Oh, I was down at McLeary's the other night, it was fucking great
I shit my pants, and they gave me new pants
I beat up my mom, she beat me up, it was great
Then we puked, it was excellent
The stones were there, man
