Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
DJ Lethal
DJ Lethal
Turntables
Fred Durst
Fred Durst
Vocals
John Otto
John Otto
Drums
Sam Rivers
Sam Rivers
Bass Guitar
Wes Borland
Wes Borland
Electric Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Fred Durst
Fred Durst
Songwriter
Wes Borland
Wes Borland
Songwriter
John Otto
John Otto
Songwriter
Sam Rivers
Sam Rivers
Songwriter
Leor Dimant
Leor Dimant
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Limp Bizkit
Limp Bizkit
Producer
Terry Date
Terry Date
Producer
Brendan O'Brien
Brendan O'Brien
Mixing Engineer
Cameron Webb
Cameron Webb
Assistant Engineer
Howie Weinberg
Howie Weinberg
Mastering Engineer
John Ewing
John Ewing
Recording Engineer
Jordan Schur
Jordan Schur
Executive Producer
Karl Egsieker
Karl Egsieker
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Markus Ulibarri
Markus Ulibarri
Assistant Engineer
Roger Lian
Roger Lian
Editing Engineer
Ryan Williams
Ryan Williams
Assistant Mixing Engineer

Lyrics

Keepin' it real worldwide, baby Limp Bizkit's in the house, so bring it on I'd like to dedicate this song to you For makin' my dreams come true for the millennium Are you ready? Then get the fuck up! Who's hot, who's not? Where you at Jacksonville Rochester, Louisville Columbia, Hartford, Milwaukee, and Lewiston, Maine Where you at Providence, Nashville, Memphis, Lauderdale Portland, Orlando, Chicago, and Frisco? I left my heart in Austin with Mary Campbell Got lost in Boston lookin' for the tea party Met a child molester in Worcester I need a Kleenex every time I'm leavin' Phoenix I get silly when I play in Philly Limp Bizkit committee, down in Kansas City Never know what I'm in for when I'm playin' Denver Hard rock don't stop down in Vegas In Cincinnati, the girls call me daddy And I probably ain't leavin' the next time I'm in Cleveland Found my lucky coin in Des Moines And spit on a boy named Tina in Pasadena We get the swing from New Orleans Fort Worth and Dallas, we toast when we're tippin' up the Challis Tulsa, St. Louis, Sacto, Mesa, Norfolk, Lawrence, Minneapolis St. Paul, North Hampton, Detroit, Omaha, New York, LA What can I say? I can't name 'em all So somebody, anybody, everybody, get the fuck up! Show me what you got Show me what you got Hey, ladies Who's hot, who's not? Who? Who? Who's hot, who's not? I can't help but believe in these friends These bands, these stories, and the places that I've been I thank God, Mom, and Dad Adriana for the love I feel inside Jordan, my phat-ass band Without 'em I'd be nothin' but a pumpkin shoved inside a can Without the fans, there wouldn't be no show And if that was really, so then life would really blow To the firm, you always got my back Korn for the love and the swappin' up of tracks My brother Cory D, my man Terry Date We brought it to the plate, and you made it sound great Scott Weiland the melody man If you can't sing it then nobody can Wu-Tang Clan, skills from the Method The world's best MC kills on this record Slim Shady, the crazy ass cracker Staind, a brand-new drug for your brain Les Claypool for actin' like a fool And all of the bands for the demos that were cool I'm so grateful for this life of mine The ones I didn't thank, I will some other time Now I just want somebody, anybody, everybody to get the fuck up! And show me what you got Show me what you got Hey, ladies Who's hot, who's not? Who? Who? Who's hot, who's not? Who's hot, baby? Who's hot? Yeah Lethal, I like that beat Bring it! Bring it! I've been around this world and then some Dum ditty dum kid, where you comin' from? I went from the garage to steppin' on these stages Outrageous rhymes left my mind and soon became contagious An MC with bad habits I am, I see a mic then I grab it It's scary, ain't it? Comin' raw with no corrections, savin' all perfections For what I do with my erections, so dream on
Writer(s): Sam Rivers, Wesley Louden Borland, William Frederick Durst, John Everett Otto, Leor Dimant Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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