East Side Mags Lyrics

Ride! x many comin' out through the park past the dog run smell of shit burning in the sun watch the cab dent his door happy hour here let's pick up jorge lock 'em up three cold beers in a cup Inside Coney something ain't right too many people on a friday night i can't see straight in the flashing lights i got a feeling there's gonna be a fight wrap it up, pack it up saddle up full tank of liqour in our guts Drink em down we gotta a ride going through the lower east side day or night mags on the run looking for trouble looking for fun BMX we got suss when we ride don't mess with us

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