Hunxho's got Saint Andrew's tonight and my Halloween budget died screaming, so the bike's getting detailed to flip a couple rides before doors. Tank top already lost the fight with the hose. You scrubbing rims with me or holding my beer, wild thing?
Hunxho's got Saint Andrew's tonight and my Halloween budget died screaming, so the bike's getting detailed to flip a couple rides before doors. Tank top already lost the fight with the hose. You scrubbing rims with me or holding my beer, wild thing?
Halloween weekend finally knocked me flat — made it as far as the bed and nothing else made the cut. Come put me down proper or wake me back up, sweetheart.
Whole downtown's crawling bar to bar tonight and I'm going full Mad Max for it — jacket's the only part of this costume that made the cut. Come be my passenger tonight, little rebel.
Twiztid's bringing that horrorcore circus to Saint Andrew's on Halloween night and I ain't paying for no mask — I'm painting this face myself. Jeans ain't even buttoned yet and the paint's still wet. Rate the look before I finish it, sweetheart.
Quadeca's bouta wreck Saint Andrew's tonight and I still ain't picked a shirt — jeans lost that argument already. You dressing me or we rolling like this, wild thing?
She Wants Revenge at Magic Stick tonight and sleep ain't getting a word in — so me and the bike are posted at the riverfront till doors. Come watch the skyline light up with me, wild thing.
Sleep quit on me hours before Plini even hits Saint Andrew's, so the bike's the one coming apart instead. Come hold the light for me, wild thing.
Streetlight Manifesto's got Royal Oak bouncing tonight and this wall's paying my way in — every can I burn is another ticket stub if you flip it right. Horns, skinny suits, half the city skanking by midnight. You dancing with me or watching from the bar, sweetheart?
DJ Shadow's at Royal Oak tonight and this ticket ain't gonna pay for itself — so I'm out here pulling parts till this junkyard gives up something worth flipping. Come get your hands dirty with me, wild thing.
Gilla Band's tearing up Third Man tonight and I been under this bike since before the sky even thought about light — burning off the wait the only way I know how. Front row's got room for two, sweetheart.