Inbred White Trash Cream of the Crop
You call the police on my son
You pull a knife, he has a gun
You call my wife a tramp, I call you a loser
I drive an Escort, you drive a junked up Cruiser
I ask my wife what's for dinner, she says slop
We are inbred white trash cream of the crop
We finally move in together and become one
We do the horizontal bop until the morning sun
We are now husband and wife, sister and brother
Our kids won't know what to call us, maybe father and mother
She is now pregnant with our child
We are exhausted from our rituals and breeding style
The neighbors say this is wrong that we should just adopt
We must have our own or there will be no inbred white trash cream of the crop
Now after 19 months, we have 2
We steal from the goodwill box to get clothes for me and you
We use electrical cords for belts to discipline the children of ours
We always encourage our kids to reach for the stars
Their potential has yet to be achieved
My wife says she has something up her sleeve
We believe our kids will always be on top
It helps to be inbred white trash cream of the crop
Billy Sue is twelve and in the fourth grade
Charlie does addition, he's got it made
Our kids will bring us fortune and fame
Too bad all kids ain't as talented as ours, what a shame
Now our son hosts an AM radio program called the Swap Shop
Our kids can feel priveleged being inbred white trash cream of the crop
The love between us is very strong
We feel as inbreds, it's where we belong
Our kids have impairments, which brings government funds
We keep our inbreds on the priority list they are still number one
Now my daughter does unbelievable hip hop
All other kids are jealous because they are not inbred white trash cream of the crop
