Scene kids, ghetto jeans, gangstas
40s and the bling bling sidekicks
Rolling with the cleanest feel
Shorties, homies, Hollywood, Moscow
Shake that ass like you care
Wave your hands in the air
I go no, no, no
When I see J-Dog, Darth, The Sun God, they keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K., come give me more
Oh, hoe
Black shirts, Honda Civs, Myspace
Gangstas don't know howda act
Killa tat, dancing to the fattest tracks
Wood ranch, hooligans, Jeffree Star (Oops!)
Niggaz in shit ally show me where you at
Beauty bar, we gettin fat
I go no, no, no
When I see J-Dog, Darth, The Sun God, they keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K., come give me more
J-J-J-Dog, just broke up with my girl
So from now on you see me at club world, Moscow, 82
Beat it, beat it through ya skull in the (Ugh) back of shit alley
Get ready for me to grab your drink and show you my grand finale
B-b-been accused of being a scene kid, but I get pussy as is
'Cause your girl just Myspaced me, I blew off a date with Jeffree
To chill with her, to drink with her, to flirt with her so I can fuck her
I light the dance floor on fire, 82 isn't over you, fucking liar (tonight's the last night)
Will someone please delete Ricky's Myspace account?
Don't let me find out who took EvanThomas750's out
'Cause I'll knock you the fuck out
Drinking 40s with the Frauds, on the phone with my mom
'Cause I cant pay my rent, money was lent
Messaging my wife, getting drunker than life
And I'm on the dance floor, but I always want more
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day (Fuck the pain away)
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day (Fuck the pain away)
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day (Fuck the pain away)
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day
Fuck the pain away, make it through the day (Fuck the pain away)
Scene kids, ghetto jeans, gangstas
40s and the bling bling sidekicks
Rolling with the cleanest feel
Shorties, homies, Hollywood, Moscow
Shake that ass like you care
Wave your hands in the air
I go no, no, no
When I see J-Dog, Darth, The Sun God, they keep it hard
We move slow, slow, slow
Shorty, get that ass on the dance floor
Ashley K., come give me more
Yeah, what's up, To Killed by the Rich?
A2theS2theH2theO
Ndlestremofbombs (Sickle Star)
What's up, Jay and Bill?
Hey Matt, I was just kidding, dude
You don't believe me, just ask
I'm chillin' with Jeff, listening to From First to Last
The Kids Lyrics performed by Hollywood Undead are property and copyright of the authors, artists and labels. You should note that The Kids Lyrics performed by Hollywood Undead is only provided for educational purposes only and if you like the song you should buy the CD