Um, wolf gang, that's the fucking clique
I like listening to music in the week.
Well do the hokey-pokey, and turn that ass around
He gets a great paying job and moves back to his hometown
Thats what its bound to be
Lets come up to my city
Lemonhead end up dead
Planned nothing for the week ahead
Chrome lips on the forgi's damn near swallowing the street
I have to say r.i.p because, i'll see you again next week.
I could beat you with my wrists bound
Reason i stuck with the sound
Weight stand out like pimples and cold-sore lips
We be dreamers just tryin at our own missions
Your annoyance is bound,
They just go around
GO BACK TO WRITE A SONG ABOUT ANOTHER TOPIC !
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