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To celebrate the A's return to the postseason. LET'S BASH! Watch & listen to the full 30 minute experience: Visionary artists (and lifelong Oakland Athletics fans) The Lonely Island, pay tribute to legendary baseball gods, Jose Canseco and Mark McGwire AKA the Bash Brothers, in a long-form visual poem set in 1988. LYRICS Let’s Bash (x6) Let’s bash on they ass Let’s Bash (x6) Let’s bash on they ass Just hit a 3 run ho-ho But if you wanna high five that’s a no-no I’m heading home, all my homies at home plate Are waiting on me so you know I gotta do something great And that’s when the arms come up Like we about to drink from a cup Cause we a buncha buff dudes just flexin’ Acknowledging our feats via human connection Let’s bash (x2) Let’s monster bash Hit a tater out the statiour for monster cash Hit a dinger through the fucking VIP suite glass Break your fucking arm in half and then sign the cast Get well soon, love Jose. Sorry about your arm, Walt Weiss It happens I might be an Athletic, but I’m built like a Giant And I’m wearin’ White Sox, like an Angel that’s flyin’ Met a Blue Jay that’s fuckin’ an Oriel, you’re Royally screwed Like a Marlin Expo-sed to the oil, that a Pirate or a Mariner spilled out his tanker, That’s a Cardinal sin, Padre Man, tell it to the Ranger, you feel Brave little Cub come try to sock me But when I’m seeing Red shit is gonna get Rocky I’ll Dodge your fist, beat your blood Red Socks soggy Astrophysicist make you see stars promptly I’m more hopped up than a Brewer that’s hyper Sit Indian style when I’m Yankee on my Tiger I’m starin’ at a Philly with some major league Twins If you didn’t know by now, I’m naming baseball teams Let’s bash (x2) Let’s monster bash Round tripper make the pitcher feel like donkey ass. Hit a ding-dong-doodle with my bing-bong-bat We smack a blast, then we smash a bash
