You know I just don’t get it
Last year I was somebody
This year I’m setting records
But now everybody won’t even come around and say hello and things
What do you want from me?
J. Russell’s jerseys?
Fuck out of here

You see I’m, my name’s Shane Lechler
I have more yards than Dave Carr, I don’t know why they don’t talk about me
Well people really gave a fuck before when Rich Gannon left here
Now everybody wanna join the band and try to rip McFatty

You might see me jogging, you might see me punting
You might see me sit in the damn hot midday sun
With the fan turned off in the field
With a small headset hollering at Lane [Kiffin] cause that stupidest coach won’t quit [calling] passing [plays]

Or playing 4th and 20 with a spread shotgun
Running up the gut in the spot that ref pulled Sapp and
Looking for 6-pointers, leading by 2-digits
A lead he [Sebastian Janikoski] built, and I don’t see what the big deal is.

Double-my-waist-sized pads, thinking that DM [Darren McFadden] can
Take off ’cause JaMarcus and wides [receivers] had missed all these
Watching all these cheap imitations get rich off of me
And get dollars that should’ve been mine, but they switched wallets

And amidst all this pill popping and score dances [touchdown celebrations]
I just sit back and just watch and just get nauseous
Then walk around with an empty bottle of Cola, Diet
Bombing balls like some 15-year-old Christo Redman (Catch! damn it)

I’m anti Brett Favre and Eli Peyton
I’ve instincts to kill “The Snake” [Ken Stabler], don’t get me started
These fuckin’ brats can’t kick, and Bradys’ [Quinn & Tom] garbage
What, you need 3 Quarter[backs]? Give me back my 12-Mil-contract

All I see is sissies and roster spots filling
Whatever happened to George [Blanda, punter/QB], and out and having two duties
Whatever happened to Dan [Sepulveda]
In a good-ol' fashioned passionate ass-whoopin and gettin the guy’s jaws and his back broken?

New kids off the clocks, suck a lot of dick
Ryan Clady makes me sick
And I can’t wait till I see him punt a football in public
I’ma love it

Well Ohio [Pro Football Hall of Fame] won’t like me
Barred me out of towns to spite me
They stopped trying to kick just like me
A bunch of little kids stopped to get tips from me
[But] They looked around saying “You’re not ‘Nair, just fight me” (see ya)

I think I was playing to let the truth unfurl
And destroy the yardage records there’s left in the world
Plus I must be here to put fear in fans here
Who can’t pick me in fantasy cause I can’t do shit in there

Fatty front four and dodgy backs
Claiming I stink, when y’all let 30 passes a day
Well I do kick box and I’ll kick you bloody fatties your teeth out
Ask them about the club they were at when you snuck out
After they’re bummed out as hell when the team got knocked out
Ducked down and got golf balls shot at their [rotator] cuffs, ouch

Look at y’all running your mouth again
When you ain’t seen my leg strength, punt out at 10

And I don’t need help from who[ever] else to kick out two she-males
Then wake up, and try to scratch me from shirt sales
I’m famous and damn multi-purpose
I do give fuck in mind when we’ll [future kickers and punters] get picked in next year’s Pro Draft

‘Cause I’m, my name’s Shane Lechler
I am a kick-boxer guy you’ll hear me out if you try ignore me
Had they never tried to save “Sea Bass” Janikowski [from being deported back to Poland]
Then I would have been a 1st round pick just like the great Ray Guy-y

[To Coach Lane Kiffin] If it’s because you love me, why I can’t get one snap a week?
You ancient grumpy bitch, start me and go sit Rusty [JaMarcus]
Now because these QB’s joints have all popped
In your fucked up head that you’ve got, I’m not top [QB1, starting QB]?

The fans of ours just spun around and did a 180
Now you all miss me and you all believe in me
Oh he just faked a punt at Indy
So now he thinks he’s so big, he’ll run for TD [right] at safety Bob Shaky [Bob Sanders]

My fucking useless agent sued me for some millions
He must want a dollar for ever yard I’ve been getting
Shit, where the fuck you think I picked up these talents?
All I had to do was go to my [gym] room and sneak in a practice

Who sent you, dick, Mr. K [Lane Kiffin] or Ms. Lechler
It doesn’t matter your attorney, Harry Birdman’s Alzheimer’s
Talking about I’ve just been sitting on my ass [during games]
You’re just aggravated how you quickly gained forty pounds

So tell me, what the hell is the punter to do?
For every first down you make, another long snap I lose
So I’ve been planning and plotting over how I will jack up Devin Hester
All of a sudden I picked 20-some bobblers [Punter wins!]

A catch from the goal-line [formation] where I won’t [normally] be in
Or even bother to let me [catch] until they looked back my [college football scouting] CD’s
Now everybody’s so happy and proud
I’m finally allowed to take snaps and play for twenty hours [a season]

And then to top it off
I went to the news stand
And bought GQ magazine with a cute stamp
Skipped to the third page, where [Tom] Brady was last year]
And what do I see, a picture of my new sunglasses

OK, Carson [from Queer Eyes], now you really can be some help
Well, here: Should I wear shells? Should I put gels?
Now my new image shouldn’t have too much trouble to sell
But fuck it; I’ll sign a few footballs myself

You see I’m, my name’s Shane Lechler
I have more yards than Dave Carr, I don’t know why they don’t talk about me
Well people really gave a fuck before when Rich Gannon left here
Now everybody wanna join the band and try to rip McFatty

You see I’m, my name’s Shane Lechler
I have more yards than Dave Carr, I don’t know why they don’t talk about me
Well people really gave a fuck before when Rich Gannon left here
Now everybody wanna join the band and try to rip McFatty