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

For 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're feeling famished for a 311 sandwich Not the whack DJ's that I'm a damage

I like a beat that's unique and, yes, I like my head zooming

And in my Continental, you know that shit's booming

With the diamond in the 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 want to 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 tongue lickin' up my tongue

Livin' life, it's hard to exist when you're tempted

By flesh, you want to 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

'cause 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 girl in your gaze which is hazy

Takes your dollar in the gutter without cigarettes

Or wine you're hung over I was warned of your normal

Behavior and felt my life was too short to Consider your whack self



It's like this when you dip down

And you are boxin'

Reeling against the ropes and you

Face some young Mexican

You're scrappin' your neck gets

Snapped back, your nose have bled

But you're takin' it to the head

You little bastard, better watch your 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 you're older, ho bag sceezer 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