| Like every other college kid, I was a drunk
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| A nineteen year old punk, waking up around lunch
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| Weed bags plump, and we called 'em trees
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| So you best believe that we turned 'em into stumps
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| Summer months I was living at my mom’s
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| And I didn’t pay rent but I did mow the lawn
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| Whenever she was gone, I would throw a party
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| Invited up every Carly and Tom that liked Bacardi and ganj'
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| We used to fit a hundred kids in the household
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| Beers in their mouth-holes till peers were out cold
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| We had dice in the living room, pong in the kitchen
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| Backwoods in my bedroom with thirty people in it
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| Singing, «Sky is the limit and you know that we keep on
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| Just keep on pressing on!»
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| Then my dog, Drew, walked in and broke the bong
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| (Fuck!) Rest in peace, Drew
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| Purple smoke in the sky
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| Riding in the orange rain
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| See us getting high again
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| I was nineteen with my friends, yeah
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| Purple smoke in the sky
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| Riding in the orange rain
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| See us getting high again
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| I was nineteen with my friends, yeah
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| I was bimping with my townsfolk, broke and in Maine
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| Mayocraze up at Mayo’s, it was that good (There was what?!)
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| And I don’t recommend smoking cocaine
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| But we used to sprinkle yayo on the Backwoods
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| On the backroads, we’d do the beach cruise
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| Windows? |
| Crack those, smoke wasn’t see through
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| Up in Killa Beez Jeep, beep, beep, weed cheeched
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| By the beach, seated next to Katie Leech
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| Then went home and made a beat, me and Sticky rapped to it, F4!
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| Back when Zack B was living next door
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| That was '04 ('04), I was chilling with my cohorts
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| All sunburnt so my skin wasn’t snow fort
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| I was eating mushrooms, laying in the driveway
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| Bumping Dark Side of the Moon
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| And if you were nineteen in Wells, Maine like I was
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| You would probably do that shit too
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| Purple smoke in the sky
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| Riding in the orange rain
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| See us getting high again
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| I was nineteen with my friends, yeah
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| Purple smoke in the sky
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| Riding in the orange rain
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| See us getting high again
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| I was nineteen with my friends, yeah
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| Before Chris Brown punched chicks in the face
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| In my town, at a party at Yvette’s place
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| I was nineteen, which means I was retarded
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| Drank tequila, hammered like Bob Vila in her apartment
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| I walked outside with Tom Knight, drunk
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| And we came up with this great idea (Okay)
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| She lived on Harbor Road, which was a huge hill
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| And there’s two longboards right here (No way)
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| So we hopped on the longboards, went down the hill
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| Caught speed, both wiped out, and nearly got killed
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| I rolled through the road to the spot where the trees at
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| With blood all over me and rocks in my kneecaps
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| At least I didn’t break my ankle like Tom
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| Had two chunks gone from my palms
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| Walked back to where the party was
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| And gave a girl a hug covered in blood
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| Purple smoke in the sky
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| Riding in the orange rain
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| See us getting high again
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| I was nineteen with my friends, yeah
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| Purple smoke in the sky (This goes out to everybody in Wells, Maine)
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| Riding in the orange rain (2005 through 2009)
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| See us getting high again (Fucking stupid)
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| I was nineteen with my friends (But we’re having a good time doing it),
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| yeah (Sorry Mom)
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| Just for the record, uh
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| I injured myself on a longboard
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| In, you know in reference to that third verse
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| I injured myself on a longboard
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| But my man, Tom Knight, actually broke his ankle riding a Razor scooter
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| Sorry to call you out like that on the album, Tom
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| But — ha ha ha ha, busted |