American Chipfunk

by Rhune Kincaid

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about

Ten tracks of pure mischief coming to you from straight out of the comedy club. Inlcudes "Coppin' a Feel," "Drunk Girls," and "Zombiegeddon!"

credits

released June 6, 2010

Music and Lyrics by Rhune Kincaid
Photography by Emily Goodwin
Additional voices by Emelie O'Hara, Ian Tindell and Curtiss Frisle
Mastering by Robert Smith

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Track Name: Coppin' a Feel
My mind is wandering,
While I'm behind the wheel.
I'm looking over at you in the passenger seat, thinking,
"Are those real?"

Then I gotta stop too fast,
Then I gotta brake too hard,
My instinct is to protect you,
So I throw out my arm.

Ooo, coppin' a feel
Those things are real
At least one of them is

Ooo, coppin' a feel
It's a simple touch, but it means so much

I could take you out,
Get you full of wine,
But I'm not like that,
I just wait until you stand too close in the grocery line

Ooo, coppin' a feel
How can I tell if these melons are ripe?
Without touching them?

Ooo, coppin' a feel
It's a simple touch, but it means so much...
In court

You accuse me of inappropriate groping,
Well, excuse me, maybe I was just hoping
That when I try to flirt by complimenting your skirt,
I'd know about the fabric, build up some static electricity
Between you and me,
I need permission to land these wandering hands
It's a molestation for my g-g-generation

Right about now, I want everyone to look at the person on their right. That's good. Now, no one is looking at the person on their left. People on the left, I want you to reach over there and grab a breast or a thigh. Aw, yeah. People on the right, you just got groped and you liked it. But you don't want anyone to know that you liked it. So, I want you to look over to that person who just felt you up and slap 'em in the face, slap 'em in the face, slap 'em in the face, yeah.

Ooo, coppin' a feel,
I'm on a mission to do some squishin'
Ain't no physician, I don't wait for no permission

Ooo, coppin' a feel
There's no harm in squeezin' your charmin
Some guys like to take your coat,
I prefer the motor boat

I'm a coppa, coppa, coppa ca-feeleon,
Everybody sing,

Ooo, coppin' a feel
Yeah, coppin' a feel, coppin' a feel, coppin' a feel now,
One more time

Ooo, coppin' a feel
It's a simple touch, but it means so much on your stereo
Track Name: Drunk Girls
If I may be so bold,
You've got some hair I'd like to hold
At the end of the evening,
When you're heaving.

Pass the whiskey,
And let's get frisky.
Oh yeah, girl,
Uh huh.

You're hollering,
And slobbering,
But if you want another,
I'm throwing my dollar in.

I love drunk girls,
And they love me.
I'm buying 40s,
For all my shorties
Until they're drunk,
So drunk, so drunk.

She's gonna dance all night,
Until the music stops,
I'm like, "Jump, jump, honey!"
'Cuz you're full of hops

A vodka and I've got you,
You come for rum,
But I lied about the 20-drink minimum.

I'm gonna analyze her,
With my breathalyzer.
A 0.08 means
Point oh yeah, girl.

Your bottoms up again,
Oh, no. Is that your boyfriend?
Well, he's calling me a queer,
But I'm buying him a beer,
Until he's drunk enough for me to beat him up.

If you're too drunk to stand, come sit here on my lap.
You're a cute little keg that I'd like to tap.
No need for roofies,
'Cuz you're already goofy.
You're drunk, but not too drunk.

I love the way you stumble,
I love the way you crawl,
I love the way you regurgitate on the bathroom wall.
I love the cute, drunk things you say that only make sense in your head.
I love that when you trip and fall, you fall into my bed.

My bed is very comfy, but don't you fall asleep on me.
I think you might've given yourself a concussion when you slipped and hit your head on the bar.
How many fingers am I holding up?
Twelve is not a good guess.
I'd say you're concussed or just too drunk to count.
And that's too drunk to hump.
You don't need a lover, you need a stomach pump.
Track Name: Hitman for your Heart
I wish I could wine and dine you
Like an expert connoisseur.
I wish I gave to charity
Or knew jack about Darfur.

I wish I was a painter
I could impress you with my art
I've only one skill that tends to thrill
I hope it wins your heart.

I could kill anyone for you
Anyone you point me to is through

I'm a hitman for your heart,
An assassin for your passion.

The teacher who wanted to hold you back is getting whacked.
The girl that beat you for homecoming queen won't have a chance to scream.
Oh, no. I'm a pro.

And if you want to come with me, we can hide the bodies together.

That would be very romantic.

I could kill anyone for you
With a handkerchief, a forklift or a spoon.
And at dinner don't be surprised
If I have to ask for a clean steak knife.

'Cuz you ordered your dinner medium rare,
But the waiter didn't seem to care.
A blink of an eye is all it takes,
And a waiter becomes a medium rare man steak.

What a great first date.
I like to hunt for my mate.
Where are you going? What'd I do?
This waiter serves two.

You can have a shoulder cut baby,
You can have a rib if you want.
I'm a considerate kind of cannibal,
And I'll eat all the love you got.
Track Name: Birthday Wishes
It's my birthday,
For a present, I would like world peace.
I'm just kidding, I want a hot tub.

For my birthday,
I would like to see every hungry mouth get fed.
I'm just kidding, I want a pizza cookie,
Just for me.

I want a pizzookie, yeah.
Chocolate chip.

It's my birthday,
For a present, I want to see every orphan find a home,
I'm just kidding, I want a car.

For my birthday,
I would like to see every illiterate person learn to read,
I'm just kidding, I want a book.
I'm just kidding again.

Books are for losers, yeah.
Books are for wimps.

Booty scootin',
Booty scootin',
This is my booty scootin' song
For when I scoot my booty
Track Name: Harbinger of Tune
Gin and Juice, 'cuz I rhyme like Seuss.
A hip-hop minstrel.
Hanging mental ornamentals from your mantle
Like it's tinsel.

I'll skip the Dom and I'll skip the Chron,
I get headaches from the Perrignon,
And pot makes me sweaty.
For real, yo.

I hope no one was offended by that.

Ladies like to look me up at home on their computers,
I get messages from the MySpace mamas and the Facebook cougars.
I like to get with the bitches and hos,
But I never use the words bitches and hos,
'Cuz bitches don't like those words no more...
The bitches!

All I need's a name,
And I'll be a real rapper.
I'll join the Wu-Tang Clan.
I need a name that makes the ladies tingle,
So they want me in their sandwiches like I was Kraft (r) singles.
I could be LL2R, because ladies love to rub me.

I am the master melodic, the human harmonic, the super-star with the Rated-R Guitar, hip-hopping, panty-dropping, Photoshoping, feel coppin', super-sonic boom, that makes the ladies swoon, the harbinger of tune is...

Rhune Kincaid
But that's not a rapping name.

Freestyle!

All you out there, hit us with a freestyle.

That rapping was pathetic,
You need a rapping diuretic.
My name's Rhune, but everybody knows by now,
I got the flow.

The lyrics I am spittin', are make you all smitten.
I rap like a lion, but you rap like a kitten.
Track Name: Shame On You, Last Comic Standing
I've been suckered,
I've been screwed,
Ripped off more than you could ever know.

But I've never seen a lie so blatant,
Never seen a scam so big as the fake auditions for your joke of a show.

Shame on you, Last Comic Standing
You scam artists ruined my day.
I'd boycott your show, but no one watches it anyway.
Track Name: Not-So-Great Depression
I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
Because it's kinda bad, but not so great.
I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
Not as great as the first one at any rate.
I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
I'm not sad that Jon cheated on Kate.

Boo-hoo. Times eight. Boo-friggidy-hoo.
Check it.

Back in the 30's, things were really friggin' hard,
I mean eating shoe-leather hard,
I mean pimping out your sister hard.

And times are tough now too,
But I can see you've managed to find yourself some food,
I know I did. I ate my neighbor's dogs,
They went from beagle to bagel-topping,
Husky to hotdog meat.

Oh boo-hoo. Boo-hoo. She didn't pick up after them anyway.

So you lost your house,
The one you couldn't afford in the first place.
You shouldn't've bought a TI-84,
When a TI-83 can graph all day.
And what is this credit card receipt for realdoll.com about?
And the hot tub with a thousand fancy jets
That you aim up your butt?
Don't lie, it's not a coincidence where you sit.
Don't lie, you're realdoll told me.

Oh, boo-hoo. It's a sex doll. It doesn't matter if it cheats on you.

I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
Because it's kinda bad, but not so great.

I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
I can still afford to go Dutch on a date.

I like to call this the not-so-great depression,
I'm not sad that Somalian pirates are down to their last piece-of-eight.

Boo-hoo, You're a friggin' pirate. Boo-hoo.

I can still afford the pretty notes.
I'm throwing them out there for you.
'Cuz times are tough and you're broke.
Your sex doll has left you and someone ate your dog.

Boo-hoo.
Track Name: Welcome to the Spank Bank
I thought you liked me, but now I can see,
You're just too picky.
You're very selective about who you sex with,
And it's not me.
But I'll be seeing you again.

Welcome to the Spank Bank!

You're in my mind 'til eternity,
But you've got no say in what you do to me,
In there.

Welcome to the Spank Bank!

It's a healthy alternative to prostitution,
And an FDIC insured institution.
Where my account is never overdrawn,
It's always "So Full of Love."

So forget about me and just go on living,
But I'll give thanks to you at every Spanksgiving.

This is a quiet little corner of the bank we don't want anyone to know about.
There's a safe and it's locked and it has no combination.
These are the files that we are ashamed of,
The girls we regret, don't open it.
You don't want to know what's in there.
How did she get in there with her nappy hair and chubby things?
The internet was out and she just happened to be passing by. Time Warner, I blame you!

Time Warner, I hate you until eternity,
How about a little bit of internet continuity.

I'd like to say a little something to every girl I've ever seen.
At the grocery store, on Facebook, wherever.
Welcome to the Spank Bank!

Oh yeah!
Every girl I've ever seen!
You're in the spank bank now, there's only one way out
(I'll tell you later)
If you've got too many locks on your safety deposit box,
You're going in the spank bank.
Welcome to the Spank Bank!