Touch My Stuff

i guess it starts with the sharks, i guess it gets to the jets

i guess these bloods they can't stop bleeding

the fighting started friendly enough, now everybody's makin love

to guns and tons of biker drugs

we used to fight with our fists, we used to fight over chicks

and we kissed at the flicks and people got pissed

and they spit from the balcony

these english majors wanna be some super genius novelists

they end up music journalists, chicks ain't that into it

we are the troubadours and these are the news reports

here we are in the holy war gettin lost in the liquor store

makin love to hardwood floors, now we go into the 4/4

we did the black and the tans into the black and the blue

we did the goats head soup into the tattoo you

and the crazy fruity drinks you made, the grey goose and the gatorade

the liquid tan and lemonade, made love to the waiting game

and the right brigade, that's the funny thing

it ain't just a money thing it's a question of community

the liberty, the exctasy, the love, the drugs, the unity

and the busts they look just like the hey kool-aid commercial

breakin down the walls and they're tippin over tables and it tastes great

i hate these strychnine shakes, looking for a closer

clawin through the record crates, primpin like a poseur

slippin through the subway grates, and you're tryin to get underground