| I feel it’s pull, it’s caressing claws
|
| The dead end blocks, graffiti walls
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| It permanates, it desecrates
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| It looks like shit but it taste great
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| See, it’s clientèle come straight from hell
|
| With missing limbs and woo, some funky smells
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| My bacon bits were not like this
|
| I curse the day it passed my lips
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Bums, bums, bums, bums
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Where the bums go, woo
|
| Fuckin bums, yeah |