Текст (слова) песни: Fun Lovin Criminals - The Grave And The Constant
I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues from the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes. My boss said it was Parris or Prison, the judge said son you better make a decision. I chose the former because I heard it was warmer, April in Parris, hell south of the border. They put me together, tougher than leather. Set me on your ass because they didn`t know better. Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on. I hold the fort left, right and center the number running hardass punk, flygirl bender. Check the photo finish I`m in this to satisfy parole, not posing or playing the role, see I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro and if I was you I`d act like Nixon and Spiro. So smoke your pot and drink your rock and chill where it`s shady. I got more endurance than In-A-Gadda- Da-Vida baby. Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on. Up to no good, with no place to go but down. . . Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on.
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