Vārdi: The Dictators. Master Race Rock.

Hippies are squares with long hair and they don't wear no underwear
Country rock is on the way, I don't want music, I won't pay
Dictators can't swing, make you dance and sing
'Cause no oil spill, you don't know us, but you will

We're the members of the master race
Got no style and we got no grace
Sleep all night, sleep all day
Nothing good on TV anyway
The gasoline shortage won't stop me now, oh no

We've reached a higher spiritual plain, that is so high I can't explain
We tell jokes to make you laugh, we play sports so we don't get fat
We can't sweat and stink, we can't eat and drink
Don't do what we're told and we're scared of growing old

We're the members of the master race
We don't judge you by your face
First we check to see what you eat
Then we bend down and smell your feet
Hope that you don't pick your nose

My favorite part of growing up is when I'm sick and throwing up
It's the dues you've got to pay for eating burgers every day
Take my vitamin C, no one's good for me
Life can take it's toll when you're living, rock n' roll

We're the members of the master race
We got no tact and we got no taste
First you put your sneakers on
Going outside to have some fun
Don't forget to wipe your ass!

C'mon guys, let's go
Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go
Let's go, let's go, let's go, let's go