Inbred White Trash Cream of the Crop

You call the police on my son You pull a knife, he has a gun You call my wife a tramp, I call you a loser I drive an Escort, you drive a junked up Cruiser I ask my wife what's for dinner, she says slop We are inbred white trash cream of the crop We finally move in together and become one We do the horizontal bop until the morning sun We are now husband and wife, sister and brother Our kids won't know what to call us, maybe father and mother She is now pregnant with our child We are exhausted from our rituals and breeding style The neighbors say this is wrong that we should just adopt We must have our own or there will be no inbred white trash cream of the crop Now after 19 months, we have 2 We steal from the goodwill box to get clothes for me and you We use electrical cords for belts and to discipline the children of ours We always encourage our kids to reach for the stars Their potential has yet to be achieved My wife says she has something up her sleeve We believe our kids will always be on top It helps to be inbred white trash cream of the crop Billy Sue is twelve and in the fourth grade Charlie does addition, he's got it made Our kids will bring us fortune and fame Too bad all kids ain't as talented as ours, what a shame Now our son hosts an AM radio program called the Swap Shop Our kids can feel privileged being inbred white trash cream of the crop The love between us is very strong We feel as inbreds, it's where we belong Our kids have impairments, which brings government funds We keep our inbreds on the priority list they are still number one Now my daughter does unbelievable hip hop All other kids are jealous because they are not inbred white trash cream of the crop