(Ah, you sick asshole, let me go)
(Somebody, please, help)
(Oh my God, please help me, oh)
(It fits perfect)

Better watch out, sucker, now I got you where I want ya
Onslaught comin' and I'm packin' in my lunch-a
Bunch of missile launchers and a bunch of contra
Band, van full of ganja, now come on, jump
Man, stop moshin' Marshall, oh my God, ya
Doin' the cha-cha and the Cucaracha with a quadra
Plegic, boogyin' down to Frank Sinatra
Lindsay to the Lohan, lick it while you let me watch ya
Who'da knew the Buddha'd do to me what it's done?
Such cynicism when there's izm in my system
Blunt hypnotism, lift the spliff up to my lips, son
So much on my hands, I got to give my kids a fist bump
Christo-pher Reeves swimmin' in my swim trunks
"Mister, help me" is what he said to me, and then sunk
Women, skinnin' them and cuttin' them up in chunks
In comes the woman with cocoa-butter skin, once

Once again they call me Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill

Always, you can see him lurkin' in the hallways
Carcasses of Caucasian females in his crawlspace
How the hell did he fit 'em all into such a small place?
Hide 'em in the wall, well, how long will the drywall take?
Well, fuck it then, I got nothin' but time, I'll wait
Until it dries, for the moment, I guess you're all safe
After I sand it and buff it, I guess that I'll paint
My chainsaw's out of gas, my regular saw ain't
Now here I come again, damn stomach rumblin'
You can even hear the evil spirits comin' from within
Someone's in the back of my damn house rummagin'
It's a girl, she looks pretty thin, but I want her skin
Vinn, on the hunt again, when will it ever end?
Evelyn, why you tryin' to fight? You will never win
Severin' legs, arms, damn, there goes another limb
Pull the lever then, trap door, death is evident

Once again they call me Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill

Now, what you know about Buffalo Bill?
Nothin', so chill
Fuckin' ho, you better fuckin' hold still
Make sure none of that lotion in the bucket don't spill
Cut them, gut them and just get to stuffin' those girls
Man, I think she had enough of those pills
Sedate her, then I wait, I come back later
Just to clutch in those steel
Blades, baby, when I cut you don't squeal
I hate the loud noises, I fuckin' told you
I keep hearin' voices, like
"Wouldn't you like to go an get your butcher knife
And push it right through her
While you put your shish kebab skewers into her
Barbeque her, would you do to her
What you usually do to a girl who's skin's newer?"
In a world of sin you, this is turnin' into a
Torment tournament of sorts, Christmas ornaments you are
I'll be sure to Ginsu ya, 'til there's no more skin to ya
Boo-yah, who ya think you're fuckin' with?
Duck, because here he comes again

Once again they call me Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill
Skin 'em up, hem 'em, sew 'em up in those kilts
Up in those kilts, uppa-up in those kilts
Man, you don't want to go up in those hills
Up in those hills, uppa-up in those hills
You better beware, stay clear of Buffalo Bill
Buffalo Bill, Buffa-Buffalo Bill Writer/s: Andre Young, Dawaun Parker, Mark Batson, Marshall Mathers, Mike Elizondo, Trevor Lawrence Jr., Writers Unknown
Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind