I could be selling kids for crack down on the Ave,
And I might listen to gangsta rap,
My bitch I'd slap with my right.
I don't wanna work, you can't make me.
Don't want to be an architect, no.
I'd put a bullet in my brain. I
'd rather be a freeloader, and sit on my ass.
Play asshole with Mr. Bud.
(I need) You're seven digits away.
I need a heroin habit, or a pair of rollerblades.
Could be spending daddy's cash, smoke lots of grass with All Chrome.
Burn my Sting records, write a letter saying "you Suck".
I'm sick of pretending that I give a shit.
Because you're seven digits away.
I need a heroin habit, or a pair of rollerblades.
1 | Wyoming State |
2 | September 9th |
3 | Bowling |
4 | Beer And Loafing In New Bedford |
5 | A Chapter Of Accidents |
6 | Mob Life |
7 | Shot |
8 | Forget Her |
9 | Send-Off |