4 minutes on the breakfast bowl

🎵 “4 Minutes on the Breakfast Bowl” 🎵 (by Roger Dale & the Leftover Tots) [Verse 1] Melissa’s starving, jaw’s locked tight Ate nothin’ all damn day and she’s losin’ sight Crawled to the kitchen, heart full of hope Said, “Shane, get yo’ a*s off that bar of soap!” What’s on the menu? Could it be fate? Egg salad? Nah — expired since ’08. Spoons of peanut butter? That jar’s too low. Cheesy tater tots? Not for this show. [Chorus] She’s got four minutes on the breakfast bowl It’s the Great Value meat lovers, that’s her soul Cook it wrong, and you’ll pay the toll — “FOUR MINUTES, SHANE, GODDAMNIT, FOUR!” But wait — she don’t want it anymore. [Verse 2] She turned on a dime with a hangry growl, Looked at Shane and threw in the towel. “You know what? Your wiener’s small!” She screamed it loud, echoed through the hall. But regret hit hard, like a pan to the face Saw the sadness drop on Shane’s sweet face “I didn’t mean it, babe, come back please…” But now they blowin’ up Bee Jay with the pleas. [Bridge] “Call Shann! Tell her we’re on the way!” Bee Jay’s getting ready like it’s judgment day Shane? He needs a nap, a trail-side walk Ain’t eatin’ yet, still too pissed to talk. [Verse 3] They roll up to Bee Jay’s, tummies loud and raw Eat Cook Out right in front of him, drop his jaw. Melissa cackles, full villain mode, Leaves two onion rings in the fridge — pure gold. Shane logs on to plentyofbush.com While Melissa creeps quiet, singin’ her momma’s psalm Down in the laundry room, she finds her mark Brother’s there — jump scare in the dark! [Verse 4] “That’s what you get for eatin’ our food!” She yells with a spoon, feelin’ real rude. Roger Dale’s on standby, floatin’ by the wall Waitin’ to e****t Bee Jay to heaven’s call. Tell Aunt Angie and Mom the truth — Why’d you bone your cousin back in your youth?! Laundry’s up, it’s 2AM Wash rags hangin’ like ornaments again. [Outro] Couch’s full of laundry, chaos reigns Where’s the damn broom? Melissa explains — “It’s in my corner, Shane, don’t you touch it.” Lip snarlin’, puffin’, peanut butterin’ — she don’t trust it. YouTube playin’ “Fix your life, girl” She’s the queen of this twisted, towel-washin’ world. One cigarette, one stare, and one half-empty jar Welcome to the South, baby — this is who we are. 🎵 END 🎵