We took this trip to Garden Grove
It smelt like Lou Dog inside the van, oh yeah
This ain't no funky reggae party, five dollars at the door
It gets so real sometime, who wrote my rhyme?
I've got the microwave, got the VCR
I got the deuce-deuce in the trunk of my car, oh yeah
If you only knew all the love that I've found
It's hard to keep my soul on the ground
You're a fool
Don't fuck around with my dog
All that I can see, I steal; I fill up my garage
'Cause in my mind
Music from Jamaica, all the love that I found
Pull over, there's a reason why my soul's unsound
It's you
It's that shit stuck under my shoe
It's that smell inside the van
It's my bed sheet covered with sand
Sittin' through a shitty band
Gettin' dog shit on my hands
Gettin' hassled by the man
Wakin' up to an alarm
Stickin' needles in your arm
Pickin' up trash on the freeway
Feelin' depressed every day
Leaving without making a sound
Pickin' my dog up at the pound
Livin' in a tweeker pad
Gettin' yelled at by my dad
Sayin' I'm happy when I'm not
Findin' roaches in the pot
All these things I do
They're waiting for you
Madness...
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
