Repeat Stuff

Bo Burnham

I love your hair, I love your name, I love the way you say it
I love your heart and you’re so smart ‘cause you gave away it
I love your sis, I love your dad, I love your mom
But more than all of that I love he fact that you are dumb enough
To not realize everything I’ve said has been said before
In a thousand ways, in a thousand songs, some with the same four chords
But you’ll still love it, and let me finger you!
Yeah, finger you! Finger you!

Oh, girl, I hope you don’t think that I'm rude
When I tell you that I love you, boo
I also hope that you don’t see through
This cleverly constructed ruse
Designed by a marketing team
Cashing in on puberty and low self esteem
And girls desperate need to feel loved

America says we love a chorus
But don’t get complicated and bore us
Though meaning might be missin'
We need to know the words after just one listen
So repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff
Repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, yeah

I love my baby and you know I couldn’t live without her
But now I need to make every girl think this song’s about her
Just to make sure that they spread it like the plague
So I describe my dream girl as really really vague like
I love your hands ‘cause your fingerprints are like no other
I love your eyes and their bluish, brownish, greenish color
I love it when you smile that you smile wide
And I love how your torso has an arm on either side
If you're my agent you might be thinking
Oh, no! Sound the alarms!
You’re not appealing to little girls who don’t have arms!
But they can’t use itunes so fuck 'em, who needs them!

Oh, girl, I hope you don’t think that I'm rude-oh, hello, satan!
Fellates microphone
Satan, you taste so good!
Repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, everybody!
Repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff! come on, louder, I can’t hear you!
Repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff!

Young ones, listen up

I’m in magazines
Full of model teens
So far above you
So read them and hate yourself
Then pay me to tell you I love you
I lahv yah
And the parents will always come along
Because their little girl is in love
And how can love be wrong
How can love be wrong
When you repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat stuff, repeat-ahhh
I am a vessel, ah six six six, ahhhh iluminatti!

Ohh, we know it’s not right
We know it’s not funny
But we’ll stop beating this dead horse when it
Stops spitting out money
But until then
We will repeat stuff