| So there I was watchin' Sanford & Son, workin' the graveyard shift | 
| At a party store, rollin' a spliff | 
| I’m behind the glass, I see crackheads all night | 
| But tonight the moon is red and shit ain’t feelin' so right | 
| My first sight was a basehead tryin' to break into my car | 
| In plain view, too I ran out with a crowbar | 
| Hammered it across his cranium, he fell over dead | 
| But no blood, only dust, he’s a fuckin' basehead | 
| Here come another one jumpin' out of a tree | 
| But I ain’t even have to move, he missed by like twenty feet | 
| He slammed down on the pavement, I quickly started kickin' | 
| Beat him with the crowbar 'til he finally stopped twitchin' («Stop it! Stop! | 
| Stop it!») | 
| Looked behind me, seen another zombie in the register | 
| I’m used to shoo’in' 'em off («Get the fuck out of here!») from beggin' from | 
| the customers | 
| But now I gotta reach up under the seat and grab the hand-ax | 
| Whipped it from there and stuck it into his back | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| (And I’m like «What the fuck?!») | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| Goddammit, it’s two more in the cooler once I’m back in the sto' | 
| Pull my hand-ax out that back and then attack him some mo' | 
| I charged, but he busted me in the head with a Pepsi | 
| No effect, I left him shakin' on the floor like epilepsy | 
| With they necks severed, fuckin' zombies for rocks | 
| Another jumped my back and we went through the glass into the parking lot | 
| He tried to kill me, he told me «Gimme some change!» | 
| All diggin' in my ear for it and shit, deranged! | 
| I grabbed him by his head and tried to yank it to the left to break his neck | 
| But his head spun all the way around, and that was fuckin' it | 
| I was outta there, I seen another comin' out the grave | 
| Zombies, beggin' for change! | 
| I’m fuckin' swingin' at em, knock they chin off their face | 
| But they still comin' at me, hands out, they wanna base | 
| They must think my white eyeballs are giant crack rocks | 
| I gotta slap 'em out they funky-ass socks, help me! | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| They don’t have a brain left behind they empty eyes | 
| They want crack rocka coca and they buzzin' like flies | 
| You might pull they arm off, you try to shake their hand | 
| Because their souls been gone, it’s just a shell of a man | 
| Walkin' around lookin' for rock anyway they can get it | 
| Even if you got AIDS, them dirty bitches let you hit it | 
| And you still gettin' something worse than you already got | 
| I seen one catch one in the head, not even know he got shot | 
| It was crack smoke blowing out the side of his head | 
| He put a champagne cork in the hole and that was it | 
| Basehead zombies, millions of 'em and more | 
| With the steamroller, roll 'em over flat on the floor | 
| They’re like dead-ass bodies walkin' around without the ghost | 
| With no clue where they fuckin' headed but the rock roast | 
| Opportunities were given, they let 'em all pass | 
| Now they themselves ain’t worth the shit out they ass | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They comin' for your goods | 
| Simultaneously, in fifty thousand neighborhoods | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They come out the dark | 
| And they comin' for you, they wanna pull out your heart and smoke it | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (Fuckin' baseheads) | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| (Crack rocka coca) | 
| (And I’m like «What the fuck?!») | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) They on a mission | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' they always missin' | 
| (Crack rocka coca) | 
| (The attack of the baseheads) Every city, every town | 
| They always on the hunt for somethin' never to be found | 
| («Hold up! I need change!») | 
| «tragedy, beautiful human being» |