311 Lyrics

Album: GRASSROOTS

Salsa Lyrics

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 gonna wanna try this but it takes niceness

 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