COPPERS
Time to cop again
Now we go to cop again
We must forth with cop again
Cop
Cook
Register
Geeze
We are doomed to cop again
Move out! We’ve got to cop again
Let’s roll! Come on we’ll cop
Cop
Cook
Draw
Ahhhh!
Running late. No choice but to cop again
Quit tomorrow. Today we have to cop again
Cop
Cook
Look
Push the plunger in
One more shot
Cook
Suck
Look
Blam

REBATRON PARTY
Don't know what I'll be wearing, only that i wanna score and get it on
I'm going to bring a whole lot of Ribavirin and Interferon
You're invited if you're a hype, if you wanna go just follow me
You've just got to know your genotype, so let's get you a biopsy
Rebatron party tonite
48 weeks gonna feel not right
Rebatron party tonite
If you have Hepatitis C, this soireé has got it all
Come on in it's the place to be, but they won't let you in with alcohol
You've got to kick the smack to fully dig the masochistic addiction
Everybody here at this swingin' shack has a legitimate doctor's prescription
First take a look at your viral load, yeah baby now you’re totally groovin’
Shoot some of this and try to put it on hold, now let’s monitor your Bilurubin
Now you’ve got it, now you’re styling
The party keeps going on day after day
Kick me down some of that Ribavirin
And check my recombinant RNA
Set aside 18 months please, stop taking herbal remedies
Say goodbye to the life of crime, up the dose of the Heptazyme
(alternate verse)
*Pegasus, Ribozyme, Alpha, Peg-intron
Is what we’re hopped up on
From the dead of night to the break of dawn
We’re gonna slam it all up ‘til the shit’s all gone

VERNON GIRL
Looking for a fix on Soto Street
South bound into Vernon
Couldn’t find nothing in Boyle Heights
I tell you my liver was burning
While I was stopped at a traffic light
In front of Farmer John
A little meat packer with a paycheck jumps in
And says “let’s cop and get it on.”
Vernon Girl
She said she moved here from Mexico
Her family was all dead
She scored a job at the slaughterhouse
Shooting pigs in the head
We met a connection with smack and blow
At 55th and Holmes
Then we got a room and had a time
The best I’ve ever known
Vernon Girl
In the morning we were drinking vodka
And we polished off all the tar
Then some cops rushed in and handcuffed me
And stuffed me in an unmarked car
It felt like hell in front of that motel
In the city of Huntington Park
They left the front door open
And I had to watch her blow the narcs
Vernon Girl

DEAD END
My dear loaded friend
Please hear what I’m saying
You’re not gonna win
At this game you’re playing
You’ll go straight to hell
If you go anywhere
I tell you this
Only because I care
Slow down friend
Your wicked ways you’ve got to mend
Hit the brakes my friend
You’re headed for a dead end
You’re pulling the wool
Over everyone’s eyes
When you say that you’re clean
While you savor your highs
Yes, you are slick
And I’m just a fool
But the Devil
Is gonna take you to school
You knew you were losing the game you were in
When you had to do time for heroin
You turned to the Lord and you got salvation
But you thought it would be different with some medication
After your completion of a famous rehab
Your doctor prescribed you some Loritab
It helped your anxiety and general pain
But the pilot was ignited and now you’re insane
You say it’s from a doctor so it doesn’t count
You have a real prescription for a medical amount
You speak sober lingo but your eyes are pinned
You’d suck my cock for some Vicodin
Like so many before, you developed "bad back"
And to cool it down, took a chunk o’ smack
One day at a time you sell your soul
Submerged in denial, you’re out of control
The real things in your life are up on the shelf
Like most of us, I guess, you’ve got to find out for yourself
You don’t want a square telling you what to do
The rules of the road don’t apply to you
But when I look in your eyes, my heart gets the knife
Cuz you made a wrong turn on the road of life
I’m only trying to flag you down my friend
Pull over, turn around, you’re headed for a dead end

F.T.W.
I’m not encased in metal
And I do not watch TV
I like my motorcycle
Because it helps me to feel free
The highways and byways are overrun
With Acura gangster clones
And soccer moms in S.U.V.’s
Who are talking on the phone
Fuck the world!
Forever two wheels!
To all the crazy drivers
whipping in and out of lanes
start using your turn signals
or suck my lock and chain
Your car’s all over the road
You’ve got alcohol on your breath
It gets me homicidal
Because for me it’s life and death
Fuck the world!
Forever two wheels!
You drive like a simp
And you think you’re a pimp
In your climate controlled cage
I’ve got hostile envy and it sets me in a rage
You’d better hope I don’t survive
If you get me in a crash
Cuz I’m looking to kill you
And they call me scooter trash
Fuck the world!
Forever two wheels!

EXIT PLAN
I’m looking for an exit from the land of the lost
Some will break out, some will get tossed
The owner’s desire is to garnish my soul
I owe them my life for the stuff that I stole
Exit Plan - It’s a terminal nightmare
Exit Plan - I have not a doubt
Exit Plan - If you want to survive
Exit Plan - You’ve gotta find a way out
Exit Plan - I need an escape
Exit Plan - I'm stuck in a maze
Exit Plan - I've got an ominous feeling
Exit Plan - I'm approaching the last of my days
Many are caught up in the latest craze
They stand and they stare with a terminal gaze
I can’t stop to look though the vistas are stunning
I wanna get out so I gotta keep running
Scouring the floor plan looking for a hole
The big meat grinder is on a roll
Must break out, nowhere to hide
I bought a ticket on a one way ride
Exit Plan - It’s a terminal nightmare
Exit Plan - I have not a doubt
Exit Plan - If you plan to survive
Exit Plan - You’ve gotta find a way out

DRIFTWOOD NIGHTS
Walteria’s got you covered
If you’re looking for a place to stay
It’s between Lomita and Redondo Beach
On Pacific Coast Highway
It’s a hotbed of illicit acitivity
Everybody’s always hetting high
It’s close to Punta Sal and Mr. S’s Liquor
Next door to the Psychic Eye
The manager will tell you your room is swell
Just pay your rent and try to stay well
Welcome to Torrance’s living hell
The Driftwood Motel
The dumpster’s always overflowing with trash
And empty bottles of vodka and wine
Alcoholics and addicts in every room
And there’s a stripper down in number nine
It’s got palm trees, bamboo and a volcanic fountain
And a fabulous swimming pool
There’s a bus stop to get you to the methadone clinic
The amenities certainly rule

HAMBURGER DEERNS
New York
London
Tokyo
Zürich
All have pretty girls
But Hamburg’s seaside red light district
Boasts the best in the world
Hamburger
Hamburger
Hamburger Deerns
Drink some Hefeweissen
Then schnell go on
Get your ass down to the Reeperbahn
At night on the street about every five feet
You’ve got a willing piece of St. Pauli meat
Hamburger
Hamburger
Hamburger Deerns

STATE OF THE STATE
Ignorant people and the L.A. Times endorse racial quotas and affirmative action
If you don’t they depict you as a criminal mind from a radical right wing extremist faction
You missed the Holocaust and you never owned a slave and you live on the street, not a cotton plantation
But they’ll tax you to death, ‘til you go to the grave because an Escalade driver wants reparations
That’s the state of the state, it’s all fucked up
Every panhandling bum on the street has athletic shoes and a fucking sag
The man on T.V and the people you meet say you’re homophobic if you’re not a fag
Illegal aliens living high on the hog in the latest styles with a new cell phone
You paid for his car yet you live like a dog, working your fingers right down to the bone
All these other place like Oregon, Arizona and Colorado have good bowls in their parks
We could too if all of our money wasn’t spent to bankroll narcs
How can you blame the kids for wanting to get high
When you look at the crap they’ve got to skate it just makes you want to die
The money we spend on the lottery was supposed to fix our inferior schools
Since that hasn’t happened the least they could do is build us some empty swimming pools
Convicts in prison just sit on their asses yet still they get three hots and a cot
You’re working your ass off and always taking classes but an empty wallet is all you’ve got
Since you learned to crawl you have looked for a wife and clung to a dream of owning a home
But you can’t provide even yourself a good life so you are rejected and left all alone

LOTSA COOKS
Everybody’s telling me what to do
If I fail to act my life is through
Everyone thinks his way is bitchen
There’s too many cooks in the kitchen
Build it up
Tear it down
I want grey
I want brown
Go to the country
Go to town
Keep it square
Make it round
One suckass says he’s my boss
If I don’t obey I’ll pay the cost
Another wheel who’s higher up
Says disobey or you’ll be fucked
I’ll tell you what the problem is
Too many chefs too many ideas
Each one thinks his recipe’s bitchen
There’s too many cooks in the kitchen
Paint it black
Bleach it white
By the light of day
In the dead of night
Veer to the left
Keep to the right
Twist it loose
Crank it tight
Maybe just because he can
Another fool unveils his plan
We laugh at all the bosses’ jokes
Because they’re wheels and we’re just spokes
Everybody’s telling me what to do
If I fail to act my life is through
Everyone thinks his way is bitchen
There’s too many cooks in the kitchen
Turn in on
Turn it off
Keep it hard
Make it soft
Robert Williams
Edward Roth
Stay right here
Now fuck off
One suckass says he’s my boss
If I don’t obey I’ll pay the cost
Another wheel who’s higher up
Says disobey or you’ll be fucked
I’ll tell you what the problem is
Too many chefs too many ideas
Each one thinks his recipe’s bitchen
There’s too many cooks in the kitchen
Bring on every prodigy
I’ll pursue your strategy
Take your time and flex your power
Cuz I get paid by the hour

KREUZBERG 36
We eat at gas stations all over the place
Cuz mom and dad are misers
But if we go to Berlin and stay at Schlumpf’s place
I’ll be brunching at the Küchen Kaiser
Heinrich has a penthouse pad
and he wields a big sharp knife
Raking in cash and smoking good hash
seems like a pretty good life
This town’s fuckin’ sick
Look at all the hairy chicks
Where can we get some kicks?
Kreuzberg 36
Mad Mark, Daniel and their bretheren made it possible
Good people to the bone
They gave us directions to Checkpoint Charlie
And permitted me to use the phone
Oranienstraße is a pure fucking gas
And the mind-blowing Berlin wall
The U-Bahn will take you to Wild at Heart
A world class punk rock hall
The Trinkteufel bar is the best by far
Schlumpf and Herr Schuller drink there
All the girls that you like even the big battle dykes
With pierced faces and zero scalp hair
It’s like their version of “Cheers” where you can knock back some beers
And maybe even do up some coke
They drink all night and day and on into the next
and nobody really looks broke
This town’s fuckin’ sick
Look at all the hairy chicks
Where can we get some kicks?
Kreuzberg 36

RENEGADE
Rigid chopper
Six gun at his side
All he has to live for
Is another place to ride
Hasn’t got a home or a family
Doesn’t hold a regular job
He’s living off the land
And the people that he robs
Lawless rebel
Outlaw renegade
Burning up miles of black top
Hoping to get laid
Here comes another one horse town
There goes another bank
Only a few had to be put down
And he’s still got half a tank
Nights about Tennessee whiskey
Days are all bathtub crank
His pockets are bulging with money
And the good Lord gets all the thanks
Lawless rebel
Outlaw renegade
Sailing along on the open road
By sundown he’ll get paid
Wind whips through his hair
In the high plains desert sun
Headed he cares not where
With two fifths, a bindle and his gun
One place he does not care to go
Is a place called life in jail
His iron cross rear view mirror
Shows a state trooper on his tail
He shoots it out with the copper
And he empties his .44
He’s runnin’ low on bullets
But the cops got plenty more
He takes cover behind the fat bob tanks
of his ‘53 panhead
But a round ricochets of the S&S carb
And leaves him on the highway dead
Lawless rebel
Outlaw renegade
The universal truth is that
The piper must be paid

BLACKBALLED
Slowly but surely I’m starting to find
The “in” crowd is blind being led by the blind
Pressure to conform is incredibly stiff
They’ll warm you up and tell you to jump off a cliff
From the herd I have been purged
I’ll have to learn to live with the scourge
Cuz I’m not even gonna come close to the the verge
Of doing the meaningless things they urge
Blackballed
The powers that be
Blackballed
Have rejected me
Blackballed
They say I’m deluded
Blackballed
I’m never included
Most folks behave like Santa’s elves
They flat out refuse to think for themselves
Like hormone fed poultry in a KFC coop
Hooked to an I.V. of chicken soup
Like heffers filing to a slaughter
They all look the same as they stand in line
I’m in the corner with a glass of water
Watching them celebrate Miller time
Blackballed
They don’t want me around
Blackballed
They’re putting me down
Blackballed
Everyday of the week
Blackballed
They say I’m a geek
I’m sure that Everest & Jennings
Can get by with selling one less chair
Running with that pack of lemmings
Looks like it’ll only lead to nowhere
Blackballed
I can’t get in
Blackballed
They don’t want me it
Blackballed
Nowhere to hide
Blackballed
On the outside

CHINO
Rotting in the county jail will drive you insane
So I got myself a sentence and I caught a chain
None of us kids was gonna make a fuss
We were all glad to be ridin the bus
You take the 5 to the 60 to the 71
You get off at Central and your hard time’s done
Take my county blues, I won’t be needing those
I got directions to my cell and a fresh set of clothes
“Holiday In Cambodia” was runnin through my head
For a minute I was thinking I’d be better off dead
Screaming Mimi’s getting butt-fucked all night long
We’re all brothers- Can’t we all just get along?
2500 Abel 6, day after day
It felt so good to finally get away
We’re so hopped up on dope, we’re dead from the neck up
We’re gonna get a whole bunch of dental work and costly medical check ups
Gotta watch your back or you might get stuck
Because a lot of these freaks don’t give a fuck
But all the kids are going to school
Or working a job, so it’s really cool
We all get to learn a useful trade
We’re gonna blow all our ducats when we get paid
For a nickel a day I do my task
Removing asbestos without a mask
It’s the gateway to the majestic San Gabriels
Far from the beach yet packed with seagulls
The sweet smell of cow shit is in the air
Views of Mount Baldy from everywhere
The guard is asleep up in the rifle tower
Taco and Veneno hide in th steam and shoot up in the shower
I’m so glad I didn’t O.D., and end up dead
Cuz I’d had never learned to play golf or sit down and eat this beautiful spread
After swimming all day in the Olympic pool
We’re gonna get a tattoo from an inkslinging fool
The oldies station’s playing dedications
From the girls in Frontera who are on vacation
Saturday night at the old chow hall
They’re showing a movie, then we’re playing handball
All the kids are out walkin the yard
Smoking pot, drinking pruno and trying to look hard
My name is D-75205
I gotta keep my number alive
Cuz Veneno gets visits four times a week
Keestering coke, smack, pot and tweek
When he whips that clavo out of his ass
All the kids know we’re gonna have a blast
I’m gettin’ paroled for the summer y’all
But I’ll catch a new beef and be back in the fall

WEAVERVILLE WOMAN
Look at that beaver dam!
Weaverville Woman, Weaverville Woman
She lives at the bottom of a hill
Way up north in Weaverville
Weaverville Woman, Weaverville Woman
I love her so
Much more than Bipolar Girl or YoYo
Her kids are the bomb
And I love her mom
Bonnie, Cathy, Donald, Ethan, Donna, Vegas
She always means well
She’s got a heart of gold
After God made her
He broke the mold
Always helping people
She’s unbelievably kind
A lovelier woman
I could never find
Weaverville Woman, Weaverville Woman
Her rack is full
Her complexion fair
There is a red shade in her hair
She’s got freckled skin and full red lips
I like being touched by her fingertips

BUMS ON THE STREET
Bums on the street
Tend to be lazy fucked up jerks
Bums on the street
If you call their bluff they’re not willing to work
Bums on the street
Some of them were once big wheels in NA
Bums on the street
They’ve chosen the easier softer way
With an outstreched hand and puppy dog eyes
About two percent are for real, the other 98 are dope fiends telling lies
Placards refer to veteran status
Does the public owe them, or are they lying?
They claim they have a family to feed
And they can’t find a job, but they’re not even trying
Bums on the street
Some used to be big-time sales reps
Bums on the street
They refused to be bothered with taking the steps
Bums on the street
Generally tend to be left-wing cynics
Bums on the street
Discuss politics at methadone clinics
They’re willing to work for food
Only a saint’s sign would say “God Bless”
Somehow I think we’re getting screwed
The sidewalks and bushes are a fucking mess
A high percentage are heroes of war
They fought for your freedom but can’t find jobs
Content in the role of a panhandling whore
A vast army of piss-soaked slobs
Bums on the street
Shooting up in the bushes or holding a sign
Bums on the street
Want cold hard cash for a bottle of wine
Bums on the street
Some have grave emotional and mental disorders
Bums on the street
Replaced by desperados from south of the border

OFF THE WAGON
Gripped by a hundred forms of fear
Perpetually wearing a scowl
Purchasing poison- a six pack of beer
I want to be boiled as an owl
For a long time I have lived by God’s grace
I have walked hand-in-hand with the Lord
But lately it seems like I’m losing the race
And I want to get out of my gourd
Dear God, let the games begin
Off the wagon
Downward spiral in a world of sin
Off the wagon
I just want to put a gun to my head
When I see the new skatepark they poured
Without big empty pools we’re all better off dead
There’s nothing to do and I’m bored
I can’t afford a cigarette
And I have no more room for tattoos
Unable to breathe, I’m so buried in debt
I’ve got the “ism” and I’ve got the blues
With radical Muslims, we can’t get along
Just listen to Colin Powell
The band is all pissed cuz I can’t write a song
I’m ready to throw in the towel
Gonna be three sheets to the wind
Off the wagon
Unlock hell I’m coming in
Off the wagon

PLAYSTATION GENERATION
I tell you man I ain’t no jiver
I never saw an episode of Survivor
Is there any hope for me
In global corporate society?
Top ten bullshit radio
Tells you to like Slim Shady-o
You’re a victim of a media blitz
Sucking on electronic tits
Playstation generation
Target of manipulation
Multinational corporations
Formulate your education
Locked in an internet chat room
Being pumped with gloom and doom
Listening to mad rap rock
Sucking on Rosie O’Donnel’s cock
It wouldn’t be the end-o
If you smashed up your Nintendo
For once in your life make a sound decision
Kill your fucking television
Playstation generation
Target of manipulation
Multinational corporations
Send your brain on a long vacation

FUGITIVE SURFER
The policemen are looking for you
While you’re surfing at Malibu
They want to send you back to the joint
You’re trimming on the tip at epic 1st Point
High and tight on the ol’ 10’4”
Back at home the cops are kicking down your door
While you eat wheat bread and an avocado
They’re rifling through your wallet in your Eldorado
Fugitive surfer on the run
Fugitive surfer summer fun
Makin’ the most of a bitchen summer
When they catch up to you it’s gonna be a bummer
Cruisin with some hippies in an old Land Rover
The man can’t wait ‘til the party’s over
The crime lab’s looking at your bottles of beer
As you ride a big set wave down to the pier
The feds have the handcuffs on the shore
You gotta surrender cuz you can’t paddle anymore

DO THE FLOP
Here's a little dance
And goes like this
It's over before it's done
And the end is the pits
Shimmy
Shake
Shimmy shake
Shimmy shake
Shake shake shake shake
The music is so vain
Twist to yer fix
Bounce like a balloon
Black and white mix
Pop
Drop
Do the flop
Do the flop
Don't need a partner
Your heart has the beat
The point is clear
Vision tunnel floor near
Can't catch yer breath
Do it on the floor
Music's still playing
Dance some more
One more dance
Time for the last song
Like a fish outta water
The music is gone

BABY FACED MOVIE STAR
Baby-faced movie star
Smokes alot of crack
Baby-faced movie star
Gets alot of slack
That faggot judge from Malibu
Just won’t put him away
He gets to drive around on smack
Every god damn day
He blows parole with guns and coke
In a hotel in Palm Springs
If the justice system wasn’t such a joke
He’d have to stop doing these things
Baby-faced movie star
Shoots alot of smack
Baby-faced movie star
Gets alot of slack
His lawyer says he’s groovy
He shouldn’t be made to fail
He wants to be in a movie
So let him out of jail
People say he’s got a good excuse
It’s all his father’s fault
Years of drugs and child abuse
And weekends with Charles Kuralt
Baby-faced movie star
Sucks alot of cock
Baby-faced movie star
Rocks around the clock

Z-BOYS vs. TALIBAN / TIPS FOR YOUTH
If you’ve got a pool and some rockin noise
Give a call to the Dogtown Boys
Open the drain, pump out all the water
And get set to witness a backyard slaughter
A bit of beer drinking, a little dope smoking
Give the last rites to the tiles and coping
Drop the Z-Boys in Afghanistan
To skate pools and destroy the Taliban
Fly the troops overseas on Air Hosoi
Led by Colonel T.A. and General J-Boy
We pour concrete on the Khyber Pass
They parachute down and beat terrorist ass
Bin Ladin acts like he ain’t been laid in quite a while
A Paul Hackett double grind carve could erase his stupid smile
Goat meat, a hibachi and a pocket full of cash
Motel pools of Karachi and Lebanese hash
Sarlo, Polar Bear and Marty Grimes
Could make the Al-Qaida pay for all of it’s crimes
Shogo and Red Dog will lead in the charge
We’re sorry the hit list has to be so large
But we need to make our point, so there won’t be any doubt
We’ve got to kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out
The Mid-East must open all of the closed doors
To let in angry materialistic whores
Who’ve taken time out to come to these distant shores
To put a final stop to the heroin wars
So let us get on with our grim bombing chores
Expect nothing, you’ll get everything. Some people are so scared of what every other shitbag thinks about them. People know what the right thing to do is, but they refuse to do it because it might require giving a hand to a perfect stranger, keeping them from sitcoms, the big game, or whatever. Yes, this sucks and everyone knows. The sheeple struck again. This week it’s hip to be American. You picked up a cute little flag at Starbuck’s. You’re such stupid fucks. Now there’s a war. What were you before? Recreational drug use is a dead end. So is watching too much television. Don’t believe everything you read in the papers. Respect your elders. Flush the toilet. Wipe all piss off rim of bowl. Remove all pubic hairs from soap bar before exiting bathroom. Clean snot and toothpaste off sink. Rinse your dirty dishes. Clean up your room. Do your homework. Find God. Tie your shoes Pull up your pants. Buy American. Pull up your god-damned pants.