From : Gentlemen? : Aw, crap, singing. Mind if I smoke? : Cigars are evil, you won't miss 'em. We'll find ways to simulate that smell. What a sorry fella! Rolled up and smoked like a collicella, here on level one of Robot Hell! Gambling's wrong and so is cheating, so is forging phony I.O.U.s. Let's let Lady Luck decide what type of tortures justified, I'm pit boss here on level two! Ooh, deep-fried robot! : Just tell me why! : Just read this fifty-five page warrant. : There must be robots worse than I! : We checked around, there really aren't. : Then please let me explain, my crimes were merely boyish pranks. : You stole from boy scouts, nuns and banks! : Aw, don't blame me, blame my upbringing! : Please stop sinning while I'm singing! Selling bootleg tapes is wrong, musicians need that income to survive. : Hey, Bender gonna make some noise! With your hard drive scratched by the Beastie Boys! That's what-cha what-cha what-cha get on level five! : I don't feel well! : It's up to us to rescue him. : Maybe he likes it here in hell? : It's us who tempted him to sin. : Maybe he's back at the motel? : Come on, Fry, don't be scared! I'm sure at least one of us will be spared, so sit back and enjoy the ride. : My ass has blisters from the slide! : Fencing diamonds, fixing cockfights, publishing indecent magazines. You'll pay for every crime! Knee-deep in electric slime! You'll suffer 'till the end of time, enduring tortures, most of which rhyme, trapped forever, here in Robot Hell! Thanks to TJFox for these lyrics
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Copy to Clipboard: From : Gentlemen? : Aw, crap, singing. Mind if I smoke? : Cigars are evil, you won't miss 'em. We'll find ways to simulate that smell. What a sorry fella! Rolled up and smoked like a collicella, here on level one of Robot Hell! Gambling's wrong and so is cheating, so is forging phony I.O.U.s. Let's let Lady Luck decide what type of tortures justified, I'm pit boss here on level two! Ooh, deep-fried robot! : Just tell me why! : Just read this fifty-five page warrant. : There must be robots worse than I! : We checked around, there really aren't. : Then please let me explain, my crimes were merely boyish pranks. : You stole from boy scouts, nuns and banks! : Aw, don't blame me, blame my upbringing! : Please stop sinning while I'm singing! Selling bootleg tapes is wrong, musicians need that income to survive. : Hey, Bender gonna make some noise! With your hard drive scratched by the Beastie Boys! That's what-cha what-cha what-cha get on level five! : I don't feel well! : It's up to us to rescue him. : Maybe he likes it here in hell? : It's us who tempted him to sin. : Maybe he's back at the motel? : Come on, Fry, don't be scared! I'm sure at least one of us will be spared, so sit back and enjoy the ride. : My ass has blisters from the slide! : Fencing diamonds, fixing cockfights, publishing indecent magazines. You'll pay for every crime! Knee-deep in electric slime! You'll suffer 'till the end of time, enduring tortures, most of which rhyme, trapped forever, here in Robot Hell! Thanks to TJFox for these lyrics
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