So, I wake up and I put Nirvana on
Hat backwards, and I grab my bong
First thing first, turn the Gameboy on
Game Genie, 'cause I'm fucking bombed
I live that baggy t-shirt, dirty sneakers, dank reefer
Weezer, Beasties, I like guys with beater rides
And bloodshot eyes
I grew up with a cool, big brother
Played in bands, and he'd skate all summer
Sometimes, he'd lend me records
Like Green Day or the Chili Peppers
You can find me hummming Smash Mouth
Talk shit, and I knocked your ass out
Hell yeah, we fucking creeps
Me and all my friends got A-D-D!
Ripped jeans, flannel shirt, so grimy
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We are the children of the 1990's
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We live this shit
Don't kill my teen spirit
We are the children of the 1990's
We are the children of the 1990's
Bawit-daba-da-bang, I'm so raw
Wanna get down, got-ta-zigga-zag-ahhhhh
I'm pretty fly for a white girl, right?
No closing time, we stay out all night
I want that Zach Morris, Nick Carter, Kurt Cobain
I want those Chucks, and that flannel, tied around my waist
Grew up on an island in the sun
Tourist kids, they would go and come
Sometimes, they'd leave me CDs
Sugar Ray, The Slim Shady LP
I'd show up, and I crash your sofa
Pop champagne, like a supernova
Fuck it, let's party like it's 1990, 90, 90!
Ripped jeans, flannel shirt, so grimy
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We are the children of the 1990's
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We live this shit
Don't kill my teen spirit
We are the children of the 1990's
We are the children of the 1990's
If you want me, you can hit me on my pager
I'on't take no emails, you can send that shit on paper
If you need me, you can call me on my housephone
If I'm busy, then you gon' get the dial tone
Ripped jeans, flannel shirt, so grimy
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We are the children of the 1990's
Woah-oh-oh
Woah-oh-oh
We live this shit
Don't kill my teen spirit
We are the children of the 1990's
We are the children of the 1990's