You got that, you got that, you got that milk money I got that, I got that, I got that dilf money You got that, you got that, you got that milk money I got that, I got that, I got that dilf money The mumma's see me comma From a hundred mile away Drop my kid at school Then I start my dad day Coffee and a croissant at my favey cafe Changin' all the halogens, wifey not a fan of 'em Slot it, twist it, yay! Filling up the car with diesel Because it gets 'ya more mileage for your money You daddy fucker You got that, you got that, you got that milk money I got that, I got that, I got that dilf money Me and the dads drilling the walls Putting up shelves, scratching our balls Flippin' the meats, novelty apron Drinking some prune for my constipation I been working all week, now where the hell is my drink? Girls should be in the kitchen pouring milk on their tits Got the gladiator sandals, socks underneath Pair them crisp jean shorts, with an armless fleece Got these particular shades, and a lanyard strap And a belt clip phone how fucking boss is that? Don't gotta stay thin, with your shirt tucked in And your trousers pulled up under your chin We're the raddiest, baddiest, fattiest, nastiest Daddiest dads that there's ever been Now watch us do the dad dance You got that, you got that, you got that milk money I got that, I got that, I got that dilf money You got that, you got that, you got that milk money I got that dilf money You daddy fucker