I guess it starts with the sharks, i guess it gets to the jets I guess these bloods they can't stop bleeding The fighting started friendly enough, now everybody's makin love To guns and tons of biker drugs We used to fight with our fists, we used to fight over chicks And we kissed at the flicks and people got pissed And they spit from the balcony These english majors wanna be some super genius novelists They end up music journalists, chicks ain't that into it We are the troubadours and these are the news reports Here we are in the holy war gettin lost in the liquor store Makin love to hardwood floors, now we go into the 4/4 We did the black and the tans into the black and the blue We did the goats head soup into the tattoo you And the crazy fruity drinks you made, the grey goose and the gatorade The liquid tan and lemonade, made love to the waiting game And the right brigade, that's the funny thing It ain't just a money thing it's a question of community The liberty, the exctasy, the love, the drugs, the unity And the busts they look just like the hey kool-aid commercial Breakin down the walls and they're tippin over tables and it tastes great I hate these strychnine shakes, looking for a closer Clawin through the record crates, primpin like a poseur Slippin through the subway grates, and you're tryin to get underground