I was too hasty to season
My steak so it still cooked even
Now I've made a mess, the worst part's below
I have to say that cooked buns blow
I think I'd rather have straight up missed it
And cooked my calves and heels, still hurt like shit
But it's far less embarrassing to know
What I mean by my cooked buns, bro

Although it could've been worse, still could've been better
And I now I don't know which cheek pair is redder
I envy flat buns, would've missed the blow
I can't wait 'til my cooked buns go
Because, I can't lie, cooked buns blow
Havin' these cooked buns blows
I don't want cooked buns

Must take it easy when lyin'
In a chair or bed, whichever, it's so tryin'
And when I walk away, my gait looks so
Bizarre, man, havin' cooked buns blows

I should be grateful that grease did not reach my nethers
But that's small comfort when the slightest pressure
On my hot-ass buns makes all the tears flow
So many ways that cooked buns blow
No way that they don't, cooked buns blow (oh-oh-oh, oh)
Havin' these cooked buns blows (yeah, yeah)
I hate my cooked buns, bro (and now you know why I've not worn pants in forever, ever, ever)
Stupid-ass cooked buns blow (and why the number of fans here's no error, error, error)
When will these cooked buns go?