| And there she blows, slip into the bathroom
|
| Lock the door, sniffing like a vacuum
|
| And I know that it ain’t nobodies business
|
| But last time she was in there for twenty minutes
|
| Her roommate Ruth sitting at that booth
|
| Sucking on that wine like she’s gonna find the truth
|
| Just wait 'till her lips turn blood red
|
| She’ll fall in love with whoever, 'nuff said
|
| And that’s Johnson
|
| He’s always on some agro frat bro gangsta stompin'
|
| Acts like he’s the only white boy from Compton
|
| If real G’s show up, the attitude is gone
|
| Jill forgot that they agreed no coke
|
| Cause Jacks on the couch passed out with his mouth open
|
| Led Zepplin, Stairway To Heaven
|
| Stay in step cause anyone can have a weapon
|
| Just like Chad, real white trash
|
| Short fuse quick to put his foot up your ass
|
| Heads up, that’s his wife Rebecca
|
| And I advise you to try not to smile at her
|
| And lets all have deep conversation
|
| Alcohol and dialogue, perfect combination
|
| Throw in a cokehead or a pothead
|
| Just can’t stop them thought provoking topics
|
| Look somebody puked in the fridge
|
| Ain’t that great, it’s where the beer lives
|
| The music’s too loud to hear the fire alarm
|
| And I’mma set a fire if you don’t change the song
|
| Nothing but love
|
| Yeah there was a party, many people came through
|
| Standing on the wall, cause that’s what I do
|
| Small-talk shot dialogue push snooze
|
| Defense mechon cause I got a lotta shoes (issues)
|
| The moment got stolen by a lady in red
|
| With a campaign slogan about the straight edge
|
| But her sentence is broken
|
| Her focus a fraction
|
| The ash on her Camels at an inch and a half
|
| And her voice starts to crack
|
| And her head starts to twitch
|
| And Ant looks at me like, «What's up with this bitch?»
|
| I can tell by the stains and the way she complains
|
| That pills ain’t to blame and it ain’t cocaine
|
| Shes had too, too, too much coffee
|
| Nate must have drank a lot of Black Label
|
| Tryin' to play the Rottwieler under the table
|
| Now light another cigarette off of the stove
|
| Both ya’ll drunk, which one of ya’ll drove?
|
| These people need to stay off the sauce
|
| I’m shocked that the neighbors ain’t called the cops
|
| The music, the drunk, the fights out front
|
| And half of these kids ain’t even near twenty one
|
| Who’s party is this, who’s home is this?
|
| How’d I get here man, I do grownup shit
|
| Let me know when your games are all done
|
| Cause I can’t fuck with these games you call fun
|
| Have fun
|
| Party over here, fuck you over there |