Lyrics Stuff That I Like - Bomb The Music Industry!, Scrambles

Stuff That I Like

The city subway stations never glisten
The gates rise up like they belong in prison
And my balance is low
I better pick a good place, I got one ride to go
Your fucking cocaine party fucking freaks me out
When did Scott Weiland show up, how long’s he sticking around?
I guess this new fare hike means that I’ll ride my bike
Play video games and do other stuff that I like
And in the morning, cleaning up, we found these plastic bags
With a little bit of party left, and started to laugh
Man, I’m glad I passed out from the booze and the weed
'Cause the house was up till 6 AM doing speed
Now it’s 1 AM and I’m quite a few in
I can barely make out where the bathroom line begins
And it’s been moving five inches every fucking five minutes
I want to ask the overprivileged kids
If they would fucking mind, I gotta take a piss in the cocaine room
What is this, the line for lines, a long line for lines?
I’m getting claustrophobia from the twenty-something set with bleary eyes
What is this, the line for lines, a long line for lines?
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of this Friday night or Saturday night
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of this line for lines, long line for lines
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of this night
When I go out these days, all I do is complain
About the booming bass and the shitty DJ
If I wanted to go to a dance club, I’d own a bottle of Brut
A closet full of Christian Dior and I’d be in a different room
'Cause we can dance to Otis Redding, P.O.S., and M.I.A
And if you’re on Serato Scratch, don’t call yourself a DJ
Beat detecting’s got no attitude, your tempo maps can’t fill a room
But lemmings all have dancing shoes
And I’m just freaking out, you’re assaulting me with thrusts like I’m an asshole
Sweating to the sounds of Billboard’s Hot 100
Like a total «yeah, bro!»
dick, man, I thought that we all lived here 'cause
we’re different
I guess I was wrong this time, time after time
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of this Friday night or Saturday night
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of these coke-y times and eight dollar wines
I, I, I, I don’t wanna be part of this night
The city subway stations never glisten
The gates rise up like «What's up?
You’re in prison!»
Confined by alcoholism
And lack of better decisions for having fun on the weekends
But this shitty atmosphere keeps bumming me out
Don’t want my Club MTV, I hate Downtown Julie Brown
I guess these new prices hikes will make me grab me light
Climb the fire escape to the roof with a book that I like