Every good womanizer needs a wingman
But the guy who talks to me is my friend Steve
Late last night I met a woman at a party
Whose true amount of beauty man could not conceive
I said, “Hey, girl, why don’t you come up for some coffee?”
And Steve says, “Sorry, but we ran out of cream.”
She said, “That’s alright. I have a meeting in the morning.”
The simple minded bastard makes me want to scream

He’s a real cockblocker
It’s all his fault I never get laid

I wish that I could say that it all ended there
But the bluing of my testicles had just begun
Every time I got a girl to my apartment
Steve would bust in and ruin all of my fun
He’d say, “I’m sorry, but I accidently threw away your condoms.”
Or “How many roofies did you want in her wine?”
Or “I’m glad to see your gonorrhea’s finally cleared up.”
Or “You wife called saying dinner’s ready by nine.”

It’s not like he tries
He just can’t socialize
That doesn’t change the fact
I want his skull cracked

It’s been five years since I last saw Steve
When I was drowning my sorrows in the back of a bar
When I noticed a figure I would never forget
But man, can I tell you that he’s come really far
He was chatting up the hottest looking woman in the place
And as I sauntered on over I suppressed my smirk
“Is this the one with the huge, fuckin’ knockers?”
She kicked him in the balls and she screamed, “You Jerk!”

Now I’m a real cockblocker
It’s all my fault he didn’t get laid