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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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and all the girls just fall in his lap |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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But for a foreigner he's quite a nice chap |
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He just cooks pasta, always faster |
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He smokes with his father, makes good carbonara |
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His cock's too long to fit in this song |
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He shaves his legs and always thinks about sex |
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His hands have blisters, don't trust him with your sisters |
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He talks baloni and eats rigatoni |
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His name's on his sticks, he's got smelly armpits |
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And when he plays his drums it sounds like this |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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and all the girls just fall in his lap |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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But for a foreigner he's quite a nice chap |
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He's really Italian, hung like a stallion |
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He never takes a rest from chasing breasts and legs |
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He hates Peter Criss but he still likes Kiss |
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And when he plays his drums it sounds like this |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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and all the girls just fall in his lap |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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But for a foreigner he's quite a nice chap |
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"The characters described in this song are fictitious and |
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any similarity to real people living or dead is entirely |
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coincidental and unintentional" |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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and all the girls just fall in his lap |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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But for a foreigner he's quite a nice chap |
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He's really Italian, he's hung like a stallion |
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His cock's too long to fit in this song |
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He shaves his legs, always thinks about sex |
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His hands have blisters, don't trust him with your sisters |
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He talks baloni and eats rigatoni |
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His name's on his sticks, he's got smelly armpits |
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when he plays his drums... |
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...do you know someone like this? |
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I'm in a band with an Italian drummer |
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I'm in a band with a foreign chap (Repeat in infinity) |
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"You know son, it's like this you see. |
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We met him down the pub one day and eerm... |
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he looked a bit of a geezer at the time. |
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Ha! It was only when we gave him a ****ing saxophone |
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that he discovered he was a ****ing drummer didn't he! |
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****ing cunt! |
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So we got rid of his saxophone and eerm... |
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put these drums there instead. And eerm... |
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he was a star really. |
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And there's nothing we can do about it really." |
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I'm in a band, in a band, in a band... |
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"Hey, are you ****ing talking to me, aye? |
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Minchia! Minchia! Minchia! E' come se metti del |
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peperoncino nel culo di una porta che scoreggia nuvole di nero. |
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E poi c'era una vacca... Io non ho capito che dice questo |
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ragazzo inglese... Non mi ricordo. |
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Ehi Vito, ma che cazzo dice, eh ?! |
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E te l'ho detto, io non capisco una minchia questo |
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ragazzo straniero. |
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...****ing talking to you, aye!!! Ah, think so! |
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Andate a 'fanculo !!!" |
