| Song | Livin' & Rockin' |
| Artist | 311 |
| Album | Soundsystem |
| Lyrics：Hexum/Martinez Music：Mahoney | |
| Fire is my method for destruction | |
| Leaving chard wreckage from my latest | |
| eruption | |
| Unpredictable, my erratic demeanor | |
| Bobbing and weaving as my mind gets leaner | |
| Though I'm trippin on legs that stumble but I don’t | |
| fall down | |
| You know I'm singing out things you mumble | |
| from a lack of resound | |
| Pissed off mist lifts to honesty | |
| Now come down motherfucker with your philosophy | |
| I'm at ease when I feel there's a breeze | |
| Give me a little please | |
| Aristotle I'm not but think of Socrates | |
| So are you ready for your lesson blood? | |
| Democratic non erratic Socratic method | |
| We'll take away the pain | |
| We'll pacify the bullshit built up in your | |
| brain | |
| In times of change or the same old thangs | |
| As you maintain or rearrange | |
| (Chorus) | |
| Can't nobody do it like 311 | |
| Fuckin’ up competition cuz there really is | |
| none | |
| Steppin on your game from the first floor up tore up | |
| Electricity we store it up | |
| Can't nobody do it like 311 | |
| Break it down, what it is, dedication | |
| Sending out gratitude like we laid it out on | |
| Down | |
| Throw down fuck the bullshit we're still the | |
| sound | |
| Wild and lost speed mad | |
| A long way from sad | |
| Lookin’ good like you should you're bad | |
| An itinerant dimension mystic is your spirit | |
| see | |
| Like color absolute bodiless indeed | |
| Casual kindred spirit past | |
| All the obstacles you're dealin’ with at last | |
| The nasdaq, two puppies, baby needs | |
| new shoes | |
| Car alarms, your rent, wedding bells, | |
| the blues | |
| The tragic fucking comedy that was last | |
| night | |
| Unfolds to my inner devils sheer delight | |
| A pointless fucking banter in an endless bout | |
| With whiskey soaked frolic room tobacco | |
| mouth | |
| Then a sickening trip to what I call the | |
| elitist cesspool | |
| Beckoning all the sycophants and defeated | |
| yes-fools | |
| Hung over, broke, and a round of apologies | |
| Now come down Martinez with the modern | |
| mythology | |
| (Chorus) |
| Lyrics: Hexum Martinez Music: Mahoney | |
| Fire is my method for destruction | |
| Leaving chard wreckage from my latest | |
| eruption | |
| Unpredictable, my erratic demeanor | |
| Bobbing and weaving as my mind gets leaner | |
| Though I' m trippin on legs that stumble but I don' t | |
| fall down | |
| You know I' m singing out things you mumble | |
| from a lack of resound | |
| Pissed off mist lifts to honesty | |
| Now come down motherfucker with your philosophy | |
| I' m at ease when I feel there' s a breeze | |
| Give me a little please | |
| Aristotle I' m not but think of Socrates | |
| So are you ready for your lesson blood? | |
| Democratic non erratic Socratic method | |
| We' ll take away the pain | |
| We' ll pacify the bullshit built up in your | |
| brain | |
| In times of change or the same old thangs | |
| As you maintain or rearrange | |
| Chorus | |
| Can' t nobody do it like 311 | |
| Fuckin' up competition cuz there really is | |
| none | |
| Steppin on your game from the first floor up tore up | |
| Electricity we store it up | |
| Can' t nobody do it like 311 | |
| Break it down, what it is, dedication | |
| Sending out gratitude like we laid it out on | |
| Down | |
| Throw down fuck the bullshit we' re still the | |
| sound | |
| Wild and lost speed mad | |
| A long way from sad | |
| Lookin' good like you should you' re bad | |
| An itinerant dimension mystic is your spirit | |
| see | |
| Like color absolute bodiless indeed | |
| Casual kindred spirit past | |
| All the obstacles you' re dealin' with at last | |
| The nasdaq, two puppies, baby needs | |
| new shoes | |
| Car alarms, your rent, wedding bells, | |
| the blues | |
| The tragic fucking comedy that was last | |
| night | |
| Unfolds to my inner devils sheer delight | |
| A pointless fucking banter in an endless bout | |
| With whiskey soaked frolic room tobacco | |
| mouth | |
| Then a sickening trip to what I call the | |
| elitist cesspool | |
| Beckoning all the sycophants and defeated | |
| yesfools | |
| Hung over, broke, and a round of apologies | |
| Now come down Martinez with the modern | |
| mythology | |
| Chorus |