and drank them dry. Beer and tequila. I've always been a thrill seeker. But thrills are a dime a dozen these days. And I found a dime in the gutter today
blanks), could we move right up north, Find a house near the shores and the banks? With a big fuck-off telly, A brand new stereo system. We'll meet old friends at funerals
I just got off of work at 5 Drivin' that old van I drive Overalls and dirty boots But Uncle Bill needed a funeral suit So when I walked in that fancy
daddy drives an old gas guzzla fuck watchin roaches tryina climb out my bath tub I was a hard head tryina be a drug lord slow my roll nah homie what the fuck for
I'm kinda gunnin' High powered on my way to the west side To check upon on some chickens, it's a hell of a drive, so drive on As I hit my dodo stick
Original lyrics Prelude I) hector storms the wall See my chariot run to your ships I'll drive you back to the sea You came her for gold the wall will
cries a weekend with drunk friends and your ride home ia a funeral march can't you see it makes no sense to blow your head and drive your car
a couple thousand of them Georges They call me funeral they call us [? ] Face on point they should call us swordfish He got a gang of money You can't stop his drive
With a gun at my waist and for people had no love See, the streets was my home and family and friends were gone Had no one to trust and deep inside,
edge of the sand And you watch it fly A wind blown trash bag does a road side ghost dance In the vast Mojave sky Like a living spirit just for one full
behalf of them all. Only Challis lacked a champion and it seemed certain that he would be passed over. a??Will anyone speak for the boy?a?? asked the
a fuck cause in his mind he was caught a thousand times and in his mind he was shot a thousand times Without peace there can be no happiness I wear a
, you're doing a great job! Jesus, I'll tell ya" And I am sick and tired for New York city taking the blame In this country for the crime problem, you
in harmony Strumming from a few good deeds Carry it to survive To a bed half alive Held before a dozen times Deep inside a funeral for a friend
I got something for ya'll A nin-millimeter that will drop you to the floor bitch Cause if I trust ya for a minute You would have had a motherfucking knife
A lot of my Eastside partners are dyin' fast And it ain't for natural causes, fool, they catchin' a blast Tim, Yogi, Bruce and James pick up the newspaper
summer stars, patriots do march saint patrick sheds a tear for martyrs who will die red eyes gleam, white lips twitch, the devil draws a smile nearby