(Here they come now, you see that? Yep both of the crews They look they gonna fight)
We took this trip to garden grove. It smelt like lou-dog inside the van. Oh yea, This ain't no funky reggae party, $5 at the door. It gets so real sometimes, Who wrote my rhyme? I've got the microwave, got the VCR. I got the deuce deuce in the trunk of my car. Oh yea, If you only knew all the love that I found, It's hard to keep my soul on the ground. Your a fool; don't fuck around with my dog. All that I can see I steal. I fill up my garage. 'Cause in my mind, Music from Jamaica all the love that I found, Pull over there's a reason why my soul's unsound.
It's you, It's that shit stuck under my shoe It's that smell inside the van It's my bed sheet covered with sand Sitting through a shitty band Getting dog shit on my hands Getting hassled by the man Waking up to an alarm Sticking needles in your arm Picking up trash on the freeway Feeling depressed every day Leaving without making a sound Pickin' up my dog up at the pound Livin' in a tweeker pad Gettin' yelled at by my Dad Saying I'm happy when I'm not Finding roaches in the pot