Broke as sanction throws, martin dear son.
Get off the son son,
I write my lyrics on parking tickets.
West side, left life, get on get up mama mama,
They aint got, the burden of words,
Job nice time
You time lung
Exist on those apartments, party town west of clowns, more than money’s mouth baby doll,
Clap, clap clap.
Wind down but my ass don’t sang, sill so clean
Ground sound bound back
Suffering nations in vagrants finer quotes, kinda
Vermin slum serenade that was served on razor blades
Make me scream and shout,
Ask what I’m talking bout.
Fuck drawn, drawing endlessly disappointed
Government and bills, and lack of skills
Rebel town live like shooting and running fluid
Frisco all over the place
You and your gang star mouth
Kicking the shadows out, stub , know its stronger than a three day hoax uh!
Fight the random born again fornicate down like Manson tour gaze.
Peace to me
Serve and protect that.
Post em’ you soaking Joseph, motherless bastard modem, try not
To work foil