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We took this trip to Garden Grove |
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It smelled like Lou-dog inside the van, oh yeah |
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This ain't no funky reggae party; five dollars at the door |
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It gets so real sometimes |
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Who wrote my rhyme? |
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I've got the microwave, got the VCR |
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I got the deuce-deuce |
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In the trunk of my car, oh yeah |
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If you only knew all the love that I found |
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It's hard to keep my soul on the ground |
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You're a fool; don't fuck around with my dog |
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All that I can see I steal; I fill up my garage |
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'Cuz in my mind music from Jamaica, all the love that I found |
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Pull over, there's a reason why my soul's unsound |
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It's you; it's that shit stuck under my shoe |
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It's that smell inside the van |
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It's my bed sheet covered with sand |
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Sittin' through a shitty band |
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Gettin' dog shit on my hand |
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Gettin' hassled by the man |
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Wakin' up to an alarm |
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Stickin' needles in your arm |
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Pickin' up trash on the freeway |
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Feelin' depressed every day |
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Leavin' with out makin' a sound |
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Pickin' my dog up at the pound |
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Livin' in a tweaker pad |
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Gettin' yelled at by my dad |
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Sayin' I'm happy when I'm not |
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Findin' roaches in the pot |
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Oh, all these things I do |
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They're waiting for you |
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Yeah |
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Madness |
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Madness |
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Madness |
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Madness |
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Madness |
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Madness, madness |
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Madness |
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Madness, madness |
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Madness |
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Madness |
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Madness, madness |
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Madness, madness |
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Yeah |