Limp Bizkit | Show Me What You Got Lyrics


Limp Bizkit | Show Me What You Got Lyrics

Keepin’ it real, world wide, baby

Limp Bizkit’s in the house, so bring it on!

I’d like to dedicate this song to you

For makin’ my dreams come true, for the millennium

Are you ready? Then get the fuck up!

Who’s hot, who’s not?

Where you at, Jacksonville, Rochester, Louisville

Columbia, Hartford, Milwaukee, and Lewiston Maine?

Where you at, Providence, Nashville, Memphis, Lauderdale

Portland, Orlando, Chicago, and Frisco?

I left my heart in Austin with Mary Campbell

Got lost in Boston, lookin’ for the tea party

Met a child molester in Worcester

I need a Kleenex every time I’m leavin’ Phoenix

I get silly when I play in Philly

Limp Bizkit committee down in Kansas City

Never know what I’m in for when I’m play in Denver

Hard Rock don’t stop down in Vegas

In Cincinnati the girls call me Daddy

And I probably ain’t leavin’ the next time I’m in Cleveland

Found my lucky coin in Des Moines

And spit on a boy named Tina in Pasadena

We get to swing from New Orleans, Fort Worth, and Dallas

We toast when we’re tippin’ up the Challis

Tulsa, St. Louis, Sacto, Mesa

Norfolk, Lawrence, Minneapolis, St. Paul

North Hampton, Detroit, Omaha, New York, LA

What can I say? I can’t name ’em all

So somebody, anybody, everybody

Get the fuck up!

Show me what you got! Wooh, ah!

Show me what you got!

Hey, ladies!

Who’s hot, who’s not?

Who, who?

Who’s hot, who’s not?

I can’t help but to believe in these friends

These bands, these stories, and the places that I’ve been

I thank God, Mom and Dad

Adriana for the love I feel inside

Jordan, my phat ass band

Without ’em I’d be nothin’ but a pumpkin shoved inside a can

Without the fans, there wouldn’t be no show

And if that was really so, then life would really blow

To the firm, you always got my back

Korn for the love and the swappin’ of the tracks

My brother Cory D., my man Terry Date

We brought it to the plate and you made it sound great

Scott Weiland, the melody man

If you can’t sing it, then nobody can

Wu-Tang-Clan, skills from the Method

The world’s best MC kills on this record

Slim Shady, the crazy ass cracker

Staind, a brand new drug for your brain

Les Claypool, for actin’ like a fool

And all of the bands for the demos that were cool

I’m so grateful for this life of mine

The ones I didn’t thank – I will some other time

Now I just want somebody, anybody, everybody

To get the fuck up!

And show me what you got! Wooh, ah!

Show me what you got!

Hey, ladies!

Who’s hot, who’s not?

Who, who?

Who’s hot, who’s not?

Who’s hot, baby?

Who’s hot?


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