DJ Mayonnaise
Chris Greer was hunched down in his seat, slim face almost eye-level with the top of his desk, feigning the mild amount of interest needed to pass ninth grade earth science with flying colors, when something actually happened. The kid next to him—Brendon Whitney, the tall one who dressed like Parker Lewis—turned to Chris and asked: “Hey, what music do you like?” Chris responded the only way he could: “Guy.” “What?” “Guy…you know, Teddy Riley.” Brendon sighed: “Jesus, man. Here. Borrow this.
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DJ Mayonnaise lyrics
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