Lyrics

[Verse 1: Nick Hexum] We were born in the seventies, the rippin' and rhymin' and brethren sees We're filling taste great, in the old school I was eight For the new school I was late, but in high school I was debate I rate in the great state of California, I'm warnin' ya Je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette! I kick nonsense in French, tasty like Crepe Suzette I bet you're feelin' famished for a 311 sandwich Not the wack DJ's that I'mma damage [Hook 1: Nick Hexum] I like a beat that's unique and yes, I like my head zoomin' And in my Continental, you know that shit's boomin' With the diamond in the back, suicide doors You can look from here to eternity and never receive your morsel [Verse 2: Doug "SA" Martinez] 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 [Hook 2: Doug "SA" Martinez] A bottle of wine and feel our nasty nature Your tongue lickin' up my tongue, your radio Pickin' up a smokey jazz love song Madness becomes you, even though you're livin' life, it's hard to Exist if 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 dancer dancin' at a club, the Hereafter Who can't really dance, but that doesn't really matter And she won't hear applause 'Cause you're drunk and lost, all light is gone, your arms spread like a cross And you're dreaming that the world will soon fall apart [Verse 3: Doug "SA" Martinez] Topless girl in your gaze, which is hazy, takes your dollar In the gutter without cigarettes or wine You're hungover, I was warned of your normal behavior and felt My life was too short to consider your wack self It's like this when you dip down and you are boxin' Reelin' against the ropes and you face some young Mexican You're scrappin', your kneck gets snapped back, your nose is bled Your thinkin' this is your comeback, but you're takin' 'em to the head, you little bastard [Hook 3: Doug "SA" Martinez] Better watch you back 'cause we're after your punk ass By God, we're gonna jack it Your journey is small time and your show is over You're 'bout as lucky as a three leaf clover And your older ho bag skeezer in her droopy saggy skin Who thought she 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 used to