Salsa

[Verse 1: Nick Hexum]

We were born in the seventies, the rippin' and rhymin' and brethren sees

We're filling taste great, in the old school I was eight

For the new school I was late, but in high school I was debate

I rate in the great state of California, I'm warnin' ya

Je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette!

I kick nonsense in French, tasty like Crepe Suzette

I bet you're feelin' famished for a 311 sandwich

Not the wack DJ's that I'mma damage

[Hook 1: Nick Hexum]

I like a beat that's unique and yes, I like my head zoomin'

And in my Continental, you know that shit's boomin'

With the diamond in the back, suicide doors

You can look from here to eternity and never receive your morsel

[Verse 2: Doug "SA" Martinez]

Another tale of ordinary madness

The girl who gave you her sex, I heard was homeless, say

All I really wanna is to feel nirvana

Won't you take me tonight and we just might find

[Hook 2: Doug "SA" Martinez]

A bottle of wine and feel our nasty nature

Your tongue lickin' up my tongue, your radio

Pickin' up a smokey jazz love song

Madness becomes you, even though you're livin' life, it's hard to

Exist if you're tempted by flesh, you wanna bust through

Beautiful legs in the bar, there is poetry

She bends and suspends and her ass is a marvelous thing

A dancer dancin' at a club, the Hereafter

Who can't really dance, but that doesn't really matter

And she won't hear applause

'Cause you're drunk and lost, all light is gone, your arms spread like a cross

And you're dreaming that the world will soon fall apart

[Verse 3: Doug "SA" Martinez]

Topless girl in your gaze, which is hazy, takes your dollar

In the gutter without cigarettes or wine

You're hungover, I was warned of your normal behavior and felt

My life was too short to consider your wack self

It's like this when you dip down and you are boxin'

Reelin' against the ropes and you face some young Mexican

You're scrappin', your kneck gets snapped back, your nose is bled

Your thinkin' this is your comeback, but you're takin' 'em to the head, you little bastard

[Hook 3: Doug "SA" Martinez]

Better watch you back 'cause we're after your punk ass

By God, we're gonna jack it

Your journey is small time and your show is over

You're 'bout as lucky as a three leaf clover

And your older ho bag skeezer in her droopy saggy skin

Who thought she was a model but in truth, a never-has-been

You both are fools, you and your cheap rooms too

The cigar biting your lips the way love used to