Lyrics:
Smoking skunk, waiting for a fucking punk
To beef, so he can get killed by the psycho thief
Retarded like Biz, eating cats like Heath-
Cliff, light
radio
Cuz these hip hop pop punk rock kids got no soul
Either way we’re proud to welcome back the star of the show
So put your hands together for Mr.
radio
Cuz these hip hop pop punk rock kids got no soul
Either way we’re proud to welcome back the star of the show
So put your hands together for Mr.
...so get it on kid!
Fresh is the word, when i display my rappin forte
Quicker done than o.j., hey
I freaks my shit, e the lyrical master
Stress me
By the lifeguard station by the coral reef
That's where all the nude kids cut their teeth
There's no clothes to wear
And no bow ties never aired
kids up like they bag that chick T'want to
*?Prawley?*, some ignore me, others I bother
for the props and top dollar, G I'm doin what I gotta, see
I puts
a punk just because I was quiet
Smacked him with a brick, got a suite at, the Hyatt
My future's so bright that I gotta wear shades
My pocket's so fat
motherfucking time to ride, ride
(Undead) see you duck when we drive by
(Undead) motherfucking time to ride, ride
(Undead) won't you punks just die, die, die?
motherfucking time to ride, ride
(Undead) see you duck when we drive by
(Undead) motherfucking time to ride, ride
(Undead) won't you punks just die, die, die?
teens
I avoid my family By any means
They are all conservative I’m on the left
And that’s as cliche as Folk Punk can get
Politicians lie to get
you duck when we drive by
Undead!
Motha` fucka` it`s time to ride.. ride
Undead!
Won`t you punks just die.. die.. die
Undead!
some bummy ass kids from the underground
Its like that that put it on wax just a deadbeat punk
With a little bit of gas
Its like that that put it on wax
Straight out of Wayne, bitch, you a joke
Giving grades to little kids cuz on your cock they choke?
With your silly-ass kingdom of hair class?
Mean
of the maniac dressed in black carry round a strap
Kid you play me too close (slow down and catch a cap, POW!!)
Cause I don't play games, an outlaw like Jesse
we are sick of your rules
By the ink on my skin, you can see that im the real thing
Up the fucking punx, our sound is fucking strong
PROUD TO BE PUNK
They can use they dick for a pencil
I'm known for snatchin' purses
And bombin' churches
I get more pussy by accident than
Most niggas get on purpose
I
Hey baby, how you doin'? What's goin' on?
I'm sittin' in my motherfuckin' cell, it's the same song
Tell my kids that I love 'em but don't tell 'em
of the maniac dressed in black carry round a strap
Kid you play me too close (slow down and catch a cap, POW!!)
Cause I don't play games, an outlaw like Jesse
Pac is destiny kid
Before ya lick, ya pop, stop testin' me bitch
[chorus:]
Homie you think you tough (what)
Think we won't fuck you up (punk)
Even
King tee:
Hey! here comes the funk of the future
And i can rock a rhyme from perquorma to hoover
The westside kid, quick to do a bid
Just watch me
[Cocking of a gun, followed by gunshot repeated throughout.]
Bone thugs-n-harmony. I know you niggas been waitin' for this for a
long time. Well, here it
old ass sing no more
You fuckin' punk pussy, you fucking faggot, sissy fuck
And by the way, a .380's a fuckin' sissy gun
If you're gonna shoot
the immortal words of Pac
My niggas gon' hunt you 'til you drop, believe that
Niggas is capable of all that, take your mom for ransom
Give the little kids
down by law and I know my way around
On 42nd Street, lookin' for some action
Women standing on the corner selling satisfaction
One young punk just
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