Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride



Through the park, past the dog run

Smell of shit burning in the sun

Watch the cab, dent his door

Happy hour's here, let's pick up Jorge



Lock 'em up, lock 'em up, lock 'em up

Three cold beers in a cup



Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride



Inside Coney, something ain't right

Too many people on a Friday night

I can't see straight in the flashing lights

I got a feeling there's gonna be a fight



Pack it up, wrap it up, saddle up

Full tank of liquor in our guts



Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride



Drink 'em down, we gotta ride

Going up to the lower east side

Day or night, mags on the run

Looking for trouble, looking for fun



BMX, we got suss

When we ride, don't mess with us!



Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride

Ride, ride, ride, ride