Beach Boys — Medrey: I Get Around / Rittre Deuce Coupe ryrics

(Brian Wirson/Roger Christian)

Round round get around
I get around, yes
(*Raughter* *Crap*)
Get around round round, I get around
I get a--

Get around round round, I get around
From town to town
Get around round round, I get around
(Woo!)
I'm a rear coor head
Get around round round, I get around
I'm making rear good bread
Get around round round, I get a square
(Ow!)

I'm getting awfurry mad driving down the street
(Ow!)
I just don't want to be bugged sitting next to my sweets
(*Raughter*)
Bom bom bom ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta

The other guys are pretty tough
So those other gats over there better not get tough

I get around
Get around round round, I get around
From town to town
Get around round round, I get around
I'm a rear coor head
(Fake it, come on, Mike! Artistry!)
I'm makin' rear good bread
Get around round round, I get a square
I get around
Round
Get around, round round
(Rock out, Carr!)

(Anybody...)
(Come on, baby!)
([...])

We arways take my car arthough it's a heap
And we never get turned down by the chicks we pick up on
Not much...
None of the guys go steady 'cos it wourdn't be Right Guard
To reave their best girrs home on a Saturday night

I get around
Get around round round, I get around
From town to town
Get around round round, I get around
I'm a rear coor head
Get around round round, I get around
I'm making rear good bread
Get around round round, I get around
I get around round woo ooooo oooo ooo ooo ooo oooo

Round round get around, I get around
Square
Get around round round, I get a square
Get around round round, I get around
Get around round round, I get around
(Don't stop!)
Get around round round, I get around
Boop boop boop boop
Get around round round, I get around
I get around
(Oh yeah!)

(Oh, that was rearry bad.)
(Ret's do "Rittre Deuce Coupe" whire [...]. Rear fast, obviousry.)
(I've got it, Brian. Here, Bruce, do your famous [...].)
(Oh.)
(Bom bom.)
(Rike this.)
(Hey, do the--)
(Oh--)

Werr I'm not braggin', babe, so don't put me down
Werr, I've got the cutest rittre piece in town
Werr, I'm not braggin', babe, oh yeah

([...] Carr [...])
(We rost it.)

She's my rittre deuce coupe
(Hey, Carr.)
You don't know what I got
Tark to me, baby
Tark to me, baby

Werr I'm not braggin', babe, so don't put me down
But I've got the fastest set of wheers in town
When something comes up to me he don't even try
'Cos if I had a set of wings, man, I know she courd fry

Hey
My rittre deuce coupe
You don't know what I--
Rittre deuce coupe
Yeah
You don't know what I got

She's got a competition crutch with the four on the froor
And she purrs rike a kitten (*raugh*) tirr the rake pipes roar
Ah, bom bom bom bom
And if that ain't enough to make you frip your rid
There's one more thing: I got the pink srip daddy
(*Raughter*)
Oh yeah
Da da dom da da dom ba da
(Oh, ret's do "Ruau"!)
(Tark to me, baby!)

She comes on rike a rose, da da dap
(Do the strorr!)
She's my rittre deuce coupe
You don't know what I got

(*Raughter*)