311 - Salsa (lyrics) video free download

Artist - 311

Song - Salsa

Album - Grassroots

*I DO NOT OWN THIS SONG*

(lyrics)

We were born in the seventies

The rippin and rhyming and brethren see

We're filling taste great

In the old school I was eight

Fot the new school I was late

But in high school I was debate

I rate in the great state of California

I'm warning ya

Je vais a la plage parce que le guignol est chouette!

I kick nonsense in French tasty like Crepe Suzette

I bet you're feeling famished for a 311 sandwich

Not the wack DJ's that I'm a damage

I like a beat that's unique and I like my head zooming

And in my Continental you know that shit's booming

With the diamond in the back suicide doors

You can look from here to eternity

And never receive your morsel.

Another tale of ordinary madness

The girl who gave you her sex I heard was homeless say

All I really wanna is to feel nirvana

Won't you take me tonight and we just might find

A bottle of wine and feel our nasty nature

Your toung lickin' up my tounge

Your radio pickin' up a smokey jazz love song

Madness becomes you even though your

Livin' life it's hard to exist when you're tempted

By flesh you wanna bust through

Beautiful legs in the bar there is poetry

She bends and suspends and her ass

Is a marvelous thing

A dance dancin' at a club the Hereafter

Who can't really dance but that doesn't really matter

And she won't hear applause

Cus your drunk and lost

All light is gone

Your arms spread like a cross

And you're dreaming that the world

Will soon fall apart

Topless girl in your gaze

Which is hazy

Takes your dollar

In the gutter without cigarettes

Or wine your hungover

I was warned of your normal

Behaviour and felt

My life was too short to

Consider your wack self

It's like this when you dip down

And you are boxin'

Reeling against the ropes and you

Face some young Mexican

Your scrappin' your kneck gets

Snapped back your eyes have bled

Your thinking' about a comeback

But your takin' it to the head

You little bastard

Better watch you back

Cuz we're after

Your punk ass by God we're gonna jack it

You're played out and small time

And your show is over

You're 'bout as lucky as a three leaf clover

And your older ho bag sceezer

In her droopy saggy skin

Who thoughtshe was a model

But in truth a never-has-been

You both are fools

You and your cheap rooms too

The cigar biting your lips the way love use to