Lyrics

Who's that cat always sitting in back As the rest of the band stands? The building is packed Catch a glimpse once they kill it back By the back bar in black pants and a Zildjian hat That's the drummer, that's the motherfucker, I told you Laying backbeat, backbone of the whole crew Keeping time, keep it tight, keep it rocking Got a couple drum keys never not in his pocket In his stick bag find a pair of jacked up brushes And washers for his hi-hat's backup clutches A broken mallet and a shaker egg Swinging ice cream treats and chicken legs He's got the sawdust falling from his hair and his beard Hands covered in callouses and a ringing in his ears Switching up styles, getting wild for a louder pop Funk, blues, power rock, one-two-count 'em off Snare's up in the cans, get it mixed in Hear the drummer get wicked As the syncopated rhythm of the double bass kicks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Quicker than the crashes that demand that you listen Hear the drummer get wicked Let it ride upon the waves into the heads that it sticks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Sick, kid, when the cymbals are shattered Stacking flam paradiddles onto triplet patterns And popping them, stop, then dropping bombs like he's Bonham Bringing hellish crossfire to his wooden coffins, got them Heads nodding in 11/8 swirling Helicopter blades in both hands twirling Like he's fighting with sai, wild and sliding in tricks Pro Mark, 5A, no nylon tips You know he knows Moby Dick like the back of his hand His double kick rig taking up half of the van And about an hour to soundcheck it, going through it so slow Guitar Center hero with the showroom solo Tub-thumpers who have sat for so long Behind singers who never let them ever write any songs The time has come for you to take a stand and to strike Rise up from your thrones, step up to the mic, like Snare's up in the cans, get it mixed in Hear the drummer get wicked As the syncopated rhythm of the double bass kicks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Quicker than the crashes that demand that you listen Hear the drummer get wicked Let it ride upon the waves into the heads that it sticks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Liquid He thinks he's getting good But he can handle criticism He'll show you what he knows And you can tell him if you think he's getting better On the drums Beneath the weight of crown He holds and breaks it down A change in pace and sound The fast beat will be back around And we will bounce some more Seated with queens and kings He rarely ever sings He cannot tune your strings Or fix the way his floor tom rings But he can count to four Snare's up in the cans, get it mixed in Hear the drummer get wicked As the syncopated rhythm of the double bass kicks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Quicker than the crashes that demand that you listen Hear the drummer get wicked Let it ride upon the waves into the heads that it sticks in Hear the drummer get, hear the drummer get Wicked