I came out the womb with skates on, cut the ice before my teeth My religion worships Gretzky, I was baptized in the crease I got sharp eyes for action, grew up three rows from the glass So why can’t I want to kick some—and also get some ***?
These bros, since I was little, thought because I was a girl That the ***** standing next to me knew more about this world They’d even ask my boyfriend all the questions ‘bout the team Though he didn’t know a thing and kept directing them to me
They always thought that I had just got dragged there by my man When it was just the opposite; they didn’t understand That I kept stats for fun before I ever got a date That I helped recruit a forward to the team back in ‘08
That the coordinates to both my rinks are tattooed on my neck That a 1-3-1’s the power play that’s worst to play against That I haven’t missed a game in Cloud for 27 years That I rattle off statistics like I’m in Sam Rosen’s ear
And this is what I said to prove I was a “real” fan; ‘Cause I guess the logic is if I’m attracted to a man And he plays the sport, I only come in hopes of getting laid Apparently it can’t be both; a body and a brain.
So bros call me a puckbunny: the hockey word for ****. And they spit it like an insult, but lately, I say “so what?” “Big D” can stand for “****” and “defense;” I don’t want just one. You close the five-hole in the game; you spread it when it’s done.
So my libido is on fire for a goalie I admire And that save percentage higher than the tent inside his sheets And if we finally win a title, I could be his motorcycle Hold me like the Cup and ride me hard until I overheat
And the banners were the reason in the 2013 season That I spent the winter frequently rewarding goals scored I committed to the mission; might’ve just been superstition, But I got what I was wishing for so fine, call me a *****
And I maybe want to **** him but I hate it’s your assumption That I’m all about the lovin’ when I’m all about the game And I’m dropping all this knowledge ‘bout the prospects still in college And for all your **** I promise you don’t even know their names
And ******* right I know more than the bro around the block And ******* right you’d catch me ******* Tyler Seguin’s **** And ******* right when Kreider drives the net it turns me on And ******* right that goal red light district can’t be wrong
And ******* right I’ve got a third line notch up in my belt And ******* right I’ve finally just embraced this sense of self And ******* right I live and breathe and bleed the game of puck And ******* right sometimes I guess I’m just a big old ****.