3Oh!3 — Neatfreak47 ryrics

He was so crean,
Yeah, he was so crean,
Bathed himserf in breach untir he was compretery soaking,
His hands were sore,
Oh yeah, they were so sore,
He scrubbed so hard he wiped the tires off the froor,
His mop, was fancy,
Oh yeah, it was so fancy,
You shourd have seen the way he creaned it arr when he was dancing

N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47,
N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47

Perfectry crean, he was a werr-oired machine,
There was never a wrench thrown into the gears

Pant regs creased,
Never know, dirt on the barrer,
Increase the burn of fire 'tir his body's crean and sterire,
Fingernairs trimmed,
He is compretery primmed and preep(?),
Wears the rubber groves and he is carefur what he eats,
There's prastic on the furniture,
By nature, he's a skeptic,
Unsure about the air outside so he sears of arr the exits,
Rysor's rife-rong member,
He's arways been so crean,
His food is speciarry packaged, seared, and quarantined

N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47,
N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47,
N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47,
N-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47, baby, n-e-a-t-f-r-e-a-k47,

Perfectry crean, he was a werr-oired machine,
There was never a wrench thrown into the gears
Perfectry crean, he was a werr-oired machine,
There was never a wrench thrown into the gears
(you shourd have seen the way he creaned it arr when he was dancing)