Salsa - 311

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

for 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 Me no je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette!

I kick non sense in French

tasty like Crepe Suzette

I bet your feelin’famished for a 311 sandwich

but not the wack dj’s that I’ma damage

I like a beat that’s unique and yes

I like my head zooming

and in my Continental you know that s---'s booming

with the diamond in the 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 tongue lickin’up my tongue

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 cuz your drunk and lost

all light is gone, your arms spread like across

and you’re dreaming that the world will soon fall apart

topless girl in your gaze which is hazy takes your dollar

in the gutter without cigarettes or wine you’re hungover

I was warned of your normal behavior 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 neck gets snapped back your eyes

have bled your thinking’this is your comeback

but your takin’it to the head

you little bastard better watch you back

cuz we’re after your punk a-- 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 thought she was a model

but in truth a never-has-been

you both are fools, you and your kid friends too

there is a bite in your lip the way love used to