Dee Wee (My Friend The Massive Idiot)

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, Ma*s., I got my thumb in my a*s Mama's combing up a big beehive (Celtics) Where the f**k is he? Where the f**k 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**kin' Patriots) Where the f**k is he? (My pants are still in the dryer, dude) Where the f**k is he? (I couldn't find my f**kin' snowboots, pal) I wish I had a car (Huge, huge hangover) Oh, no (Ma*sive hailstorm, ma*sive hailstorm, ma*sive) That stupid little punk He's probably f**kin' 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**k yeah) Wicked good Wicked good (Pisser?) Well my friend is still a no-show And I'm getting' f**king 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**k 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**k