East Side Mags — текст песни (bouncing souls)

Ride! Ride! Ride!....
comin` out through the park
past the dog run smell of shit
burning in the sun
watch the cab dent his door
happy hour here let`s pick up jorge
lock `em up three cold beers in a cup

Inside Coney something ain`t right
too many people on a friday night
i can`t see straight in the flashing lights
i got a feeling there`s gonna be a fight
wrap it up, pack it up saddle up
full tank of liqour in our guts

Drinkem down we gotta a ride
going 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