| See the boy on the corner, | |
| He's only twelve years old. | |
| Every night he's out there doin' his best, | |
| To get his goodies sold. | |
| Cause he's gotta feed his momma, | |
| Gotta beat off a couple a dads. | |
| They just come around, | |
| When they feel like bangin' in the bag, yea... | |
| (chorus) | |
| Aww, that's life, | |
| In Hollywood. | |
| Where what's bad, | |
| Just seemed to be good. | |
| That's life, | |
| In Hollywood. | |
| I love the place, | |
| Am I misunderstood? | |
| Livin' in a junkyard, | |
| Livin' like a couple a thieves. | |
| Well I can't go to my homeboys place, | |
| Cause I got no gasoline. | |
| But if you say you're buyin', | |
| Then I'll have another round. | |
| And if you've got the money honey, | |
| Well I'll drink you down, yea... | |
| (chorus) | |
| (solo) | |
| Got shootings down the freeway, | |
| Shootings down my street. | |
| Fine lookin' lady on the corner says, | |
| "Hey boy, I'll sell you a treat". | |
| Well that's my lovely city, | |
| That's my neighborhood. | |
| I live like I want to, | |
| Not like I should, yea... | |
| Yea...yea...yea... | |
| (chorus) |
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