Lyrics The Kids - Hollywood Undead

The Kids

Scene kids, ghetto jeans, gangsters
40s and the bling-bling sidekicks rolling with the cleanest feel
Shorties, homies, Hollywood, Moscow
Shake that ass like you care, wave your hands in the air
I go «no, no, no»
When I see J-Dog, Darth, the Sun God
They keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K, come give me more
Oh
Hoe
Black shirts, Honda Civs, MySpace
Gangsters don’t know how to act
Killer tat, dancing to the fattest tracks
Wood ranch, hooligans, Jeffree Star
Niggas in Shit Alley, show me where you at
Beauty Bar, we getting fat
I go «no, no, no»
When I see J-Dog, Darth, the Sun God
They keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K, come give me more
J-J-J-J-J-Dog, just broke up with my girl
So from now on you’ll see me at Club World
Moscow, 82: beat it, beat it through your skull in the back of Shit Alley
Get ready for me to grab your drink and show you my grand finale
B-B-Been accused of being a scene kid but I get pussy as is
'Cause your girl just MySpaced me, I blew off a date with Jeffree.
To chill with her, to drink with her, to flow with her so I can fuck her
I light the dance floor on fire, 82 isn’t over, you fucking liar
Would someone please delete Ricky’s MySpace account?
Don’t let me find out
Who took EvanThomas750's out 'cause I’ll knock you the fuck out
Drinking 40's with the Frauds, on the phone with my mom
'Cause I can’t pay my rent, money was lent
Messaging my wife, getting drunker than life
And I’m on the dance floor but I always want more
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Scene kids, ghetto jeans, gangsters
40s and the bling-bling sidekicks rolling with the cleanest feel
Shorties, homies, Hollywood, Moscow
Shake that ass like you care, wave your hands in the air
I go «no, no, no»
When I see J-Dog, Darth, the Sun God
They keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K, come give me more
Yeah, what’s up to Killed By the Rich?
A to the S to the H to the O, Ndlestremofbombs
What’s up, Jay and Bill?
Hey, Matt, I was just kidding, dude
You don’t believe me, just ask
I’m chilling with Jeff listening From First to Last.