The Grave And The Constant - Fun Lovin' Criminals

I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues from the dudes in

D.C. with the wing tip shoes

My boss said it was Parris or Prison, the judge said son you better

Make a decision

I chose the former because I heard it was warmer, April in Parris, hell

South of the border.

They put me together, tougher than leather.

Set

Me on your ass because they didn’t know better

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on

I hold the fort left, right and center

The number running hardass punk, flygirl bender.

Check the photo

Finish I’m in this to satisfy parole, not posing or playing the role

See I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro and if I was you I’d

Act like Nixon and Spiro.

So smoke your pot and drink your rock

And chill where it’s shady.

I got more endurance than In-A-Gadda-

Da-Vida baby

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on

Up to no good, with no place to go but down.

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on