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      Salsa

      311

      Album: Grassroots

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      We were born in the seventies
      The rippin and rhyming and brethren see
      We're filling taste great
      In the old school I was eight
      Fot the new school I was late
      But in high school I was debate
      I rate in the great state of California
      I'm warning ya
      Je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette!
      I kick nonsense in French tasty like Crepe Suzette
      I bet you're feeling famished for a 311 sandwich
      Not the wack DJ's that I'ma damage
      I like a beat that's unique and I like my head zooming
      And in my Continental you know that shit's booming
      With the diamond int eh back suicide doors
      You can look from here to eternity
      And never receive your morsel.
      
      Another tale of ordinary madness
      The girl who gave you her sex I heard was homeless say
      All I really wanna is to feel nirvana
      Won't you take me tonight and we just might find
      A bottle of wine and feel our nasty nature
      Your toung lickin' up my tounge
      Your radio pickin' up a smokey jazz love song
      Madness becomes you even though your
      Livin' life it's hard to exist when you're tempted
      By flesh you wanna bust through
      Beautiful legs in the bar there is poetry
      She bends and suspends and her ass
      Is a marvelous thing
      A dance dancin' at a club the Hereafter
      Who can't really dance but that doesn't really matter
      And she won't hear applause
      Cus your drunk and lost
      All light is gone
      Your arms spread like a cross
      And you're dreaming that the world
      Will soon fall apart
      Topless firl in your gaze
      Which is hazy
      Takes your dollar
      In the gutter without cigarettes
      Or wine your hungover
      I was warned of your normal
      Behaviour and felt
      My life was too short to
      Consider your wack self
      It's like this when you dip down
      And you are boxin'
      Reeling against the ropes and you
      Face some young Mexican
      Your scrappin' your kneck gets
      Snapped back your eyes have bled
      Your thinking' about a comeback
      But your takin' it to the head
      You little bastard
      Better watch you back
      Cuz we're after
      Your punk ass by God we're gonna jack it
      You're played out and small time
      And your show is over
      You're 'bout as lucky as a three leaf clover
      And your older ho bag sceezer
      In her droopy saggy skin
      Who thoughtshe was a model
      But in truth a never-has-been
      I'll slap that witch as if I were her pimp
      And my crew will attest to her fradulence

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