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| 311 Grassroots Salsa Music: Hexum/Mahoney/Sexton; Lyrics: Hexum/Martinez We were born in the seventies The rippin and rhyming and brethren see We're filling taste great In the old school I was eight Fot the new school I was late But in high school I was debate I rate in the great state of California I'm warning ya Je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette! I kick nonsense in French tasty like Crepe Suzette I bet you gonna wanna try this but it takes niceness I like a beat that's unique and I like my head zooming And in my Continental you know that shit's booming With the diamond int eh back suicide doors You can look from here to eternity And never receive your morsel. Another tale of ordinary madness The girl who gave you her sex I heard was homeless say All I really wanna is to feel nirvana Won't you take me tonight and we just might find A bottle of wine and feel our nasty nature Your toung lickin' up my tounge Your radio pickin' up a smokey jazz love song Madness becomes you even though your Livin' life it's hard to exist when you're tempted By flesh you wanna bust through Beautiful legs in the bar there is poetry She bends and suspends and her ass Is a marvelous thing A dance dancin' at a club the Hereafter Who can't really dance but that doesn't really matter And she won't hear applause Cus your drunk and lost All light is gone Your arms spread like a cross And you're dreaming that the world Will soon fall apart Topless firl in your gaze Which is hazy Takes your dollar In the gutter without cigarettes Or wine your hungover I was warned of your normal Behaviour and felt My life was too short to Consider your wack self It's like this when you dip down And you are boxin' Reeling against the ropes and you Face some young Mexican Your scrappin' your kneck gets Snapped back your eyes have bled Your thinking' about a comeback But your takin' it to the head You little bastard Better watch you back Cuz we're after Your punk ass by God we're gonna jack it You're played out and small time And your show is over You're 'bout as lucky as a three leaf clover And your older ho bag sceezer In her droopy saggy skin Who thoughtshe was a model But in truth a never-has-been You both are fools You and your cheap rooms too The cigar biting your lips the way love use to |
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