"Stay At Home Dad" lyrics
Alright baby girl, let me sing it to you
You're getting your degree, you're going to college
I'm making music hoping that Kanye puts me on
But if I don't make it baby, would you be mad at me
If I just chilled at home as your stay-home daddy?
Come on, I'll make you coffee (coffee), and a bagel (bagel)
And another bagel (2 bagels)
Keep on reading that paper, then it's off you go
Hun you're gonna be late, don't forget your briefcase, drive safe, (peace babe)
Wake up the kids, toast the toast, put the Raisin Bran up in the bowl
The toast... did I forget the toast? The toast is toast, damnit I burnt the toast
Start crying, the kid's like, "Dad what's wrong?" Oh, it's not you, kids
It's me. I'm just alone... Papa's a little bit stressed out, fuck!
Feeling so sensitive, I'm going for a latte, see what's popping at pilates
Hit up my friends like, "Yo what up man, you tryna have a spa day?"
The fuck? You're a stay-at-home dad... that's not gay!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you go to work, I'll mow the lawn
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you make the cheese I'll bring the guac (Nacho Sauce, Spanish)
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you buy the clothes, I'll take them off JNCOS! FUBU!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, I'm a stay-at-home dad, this is my job
You go girl, get that promotion
I'll be on the sofa, collecting unemployment
Yelling at the TV, watching Maury Povich
Quit groping that girl, Maury Povich
Who's this Shelly Jones bitch?
Shit it's 4 o'clock time for Oprah (Oprah)
The gospel of the Lord, for dads who stay-at-home
Even though we can't get boners
We still watch Rachel Ray and Emeril cook lasagna
Swoopin up the kids from soccer practice (soccer practice)
Then time for gymnastics, rice crispy treats and wax baggies
I'm with my kids in the mini-van, listening to NPR
With the windows down, through the cul-de-sac
Then it's homework, dinner time, set the placemats
Cook, clean, tuck the rugrats in blankets
Then I lay you down, pop two Cialis, put on Sting
And go and quench my palette
Is that douche, or does your cooch just smell like flowers?
Your feet are calloused, peppermint towlette
Jasmine pedicure? Scented oil, homeopathic backrub?
I am Aladdin, your carpet's magic, your wish has been granted (freaky-deeky)
I would just like to ride your carpet outside of the palace
Now keep bringing home the "green" baby, and I'll keep on tossin' the salad
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you go to work, I'll mow the lawn
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you make the cheese I'll bring the guac (Nacho Sauce, Spanish)
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you buy the clothes, I'll take them off JNCOS! FUBU!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, I'm a stay-at-home dad, this is my job
Ladies and gentlemen, we have been, conditioned to believe
That we must fit in a role? Brainwashed by Babylon
Into thinking our role must match our genitalia, hell to the no
It's men who go to work, and women raise the children, but I know
The hardest job is maintaining the household
So I am doing a back-to-back, no tradebacks, with this briefcase
For 2010, I am staying at home
You're getting your degree, you're going to college
I'm making music hoping that Kanye puts me on
But if I don't make it baby, would you be mad at me
If I just chilled at home as your stay-home daddy?
Come on, I'll make you coffee (coffee), and a bagel (bagel)
And another bagel (2 bagels)
Keep on reading that paper, then it's off you go
Hun you're gonna be late, don't forget your briefcase, drive safe, (peace babe)
Wake up the kids, toast the toast, put the Raisin Bran up in the bowl
The toast... did I forget the toast? The toast is toast, damnit I burnt the toast
Start crying, the kid's like, "Dad what's wrong?" Oh, it's not you, kids
It's me. I'm just alone... Papa's a little bit stressed out, fuck!
Feeling so sensitive, I'm going for a latte, see what's popping at pilates
Hit up my friends like, "Yo what up man, you tryna have a spa day?"
The fuck? You're a stay-at-home dad... that's not gay!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you go to work, I'll mow the lawn
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you make the cheese I'll bring the guac (Nacho Sauce, Spanish)
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you buy the clothes, I'll take them off JNCOS! FUBU!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, I'm a stay-at-home dad, this is my job
You go girl, get that promotion
I'll be on the sofa, collecting unemployment
Yelling at the TV, watching Maury Povich
Quit groping that girl, Maury Povich
Who's this Shelly Jones bitch?
Shit it's 4 o'clock time for Oprah (Oprah)
The gospel of the Lord, for dads who stay-at-home
Even though we can't get boners
We still watch Rachel Ray and Emeril cook lasagna
Swoopin up the kids from soccer practice (soccer practice)
Then time for gymnastics, rice crispy treats and wax baggies
I'm with my kids in the mini-van, listening to NPR
With the windows down, through the cul-de-sac
Then it's homework, dinner time, set the placemats
Cook, clean, tuck the rugrats in blankets
Then I lay you down, pop two Cialis, put on Sting
And go and quench my palette
Is that douche, or does your cooch just smell like flowers?
Your feet are calloused, peppermint towlette
Jasmine pedicure? Scented oil, homeopathic backrub?
I am Aladdin, your carpet's magic, your wish has been granted (freaky-deeky)
I would just like to ride your carpet outside of the palace
Now keep bringing home the "green" baby, and I'll keep on tossin' the salad
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you go to work, I'll mow the lawn
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you make the cheese I'll bring the guac (Nacho Sauce, Spanish)
Ay, ay, ay, ay, you buy the clothes, I'll take them off JNCOS! FUBU!
Ay, ay, ay, ay, I'm a stay-at-home dad, this is my job
Ladies and gentlemen, we have been, conditioned to believe
That we must fit in a role? Brainwashed by Babylon
Into thinking our role must match our genitalia, hell to the no
It's men who go to work, and women raise the children, but I know
The hardest job is maintaining the household
So I am doing a back-to-back, no tradebacks, with this briefcase
For 2010, I am staying at home
Thanks to McKenzie Wells for correcting these lyrics.
