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East Side Mags Lyrics - Artist : Bouncing Souls, The
Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride!
Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Through the park, past the dog run Smell of shit burning in the sun Watch the cab, dent his door Happy hours here let's pick up Jorge Lock 'em up, lock 'em up, lock 'em up Three cold beers, in a cup Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Inside Coney something ain't right Too many people on a Friday night I can't see straight in the flashing lights But, I got a feeling there's gonna be a fight Pack it up, wrap it up, saddle up Full tank of liquor, in our guts Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Drink em down, we gotta a ride Going out through the lower east side Day or night, mags on the run Looking for trouble, looking for fun BMX, we got suss When we ride, don't mess with us Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Ride! Whoa Whoa Whoa We are the mags! |
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