| I’m deep in the woods at night, but I’m not scared
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| Fact is, I’m part of what’s there
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| Impared, drunk, I’m feelin' alright
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| Say «Fuck it» and never go home, we all just might
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| In the forest, we sleep with the insects
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| All up in sects, trading respects
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| Moses couldn’t part a sea of us, baby
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| With ABK on the stage. |
| Fool, you crazy
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| We firin' the shot. |
| It’s our time
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| Even piggies don’t cross our line
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| Throwin' 40's at the helicopters flyin' above
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| They lookin' for trouble but findin' nothin' but love
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| Danger, danger, Shaggy’s on a golf cart, drunk
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| Up in the woods, a street punk
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| With 10,000 others, just like me too
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| Deep in the woods, cries of «Whoop, whoop!»
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| Crows dancin' in the clouds above
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| Trees clappin' they branches and showin' us love
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| These days belong to us!
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| They belong to us
|
| These days belong to us!
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| They belong to us
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| «Hey, who the fuck ate my hot dog?»
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| Goals get achieved when we in the woods
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| Kids are conceived when we in the woods
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| Shit you can’t believe when we in the woods
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| Wicked Clowns take stage, and they steal your goods?
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| Fuckin' bullshit! |
| Devil’s henchmen sneakin' in
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| We got ninjas in the trees, watchin' for thievin'
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| They get dealt with, and the party continues
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| We rock in the woods, nothing like in the venues
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| And look a this hottie’s butt-naked-ass body
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| Fuckin' under the blankets, our beer breath stankin'
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| Toss me a cheeseburger. |
| I’ll steal your blunt and peel off
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| Ran into a tree stump and broke the wheel off
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| And you real soft, passin' out, you didn’t see Twiztid
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| They did the fuckin' new shit, and your missed it
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| In the woods, you can hear the bump all night
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| We family together, and We’ll Be Alright
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| Crows dancin' in the clouds above
|
| Trees clappin' they branches and showin' us love
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| «Whoop, whoop! |
| Whoop, whoop! |
| Whoop, whoop!»
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| In the woods at night, find me up in the club
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| Chaos throughout the forest, nothin' but love
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| («Hey, where the fuck are you from?») The loon district
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| The place where that hatin' bullshit is restricted
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| Body slams in the woods, slam dancin' in the forest
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| We become muddalos if the rain pours
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| So the fuck what? |
| I’m still slappin' this mud-duck butt
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| It’s all good. |
| I don’t give a fuck what!
|
| Crows dancin' in the clouds above
|
| Trees clappin' they branches and showin' us love
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| Crows dancin' in the clouds above
|
| Trees clappin' they branches and showin' us love
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| These days belong to us!
|
| They belong to us
|
| Oh, the stagecoach was a headin' through the mountains
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| This day they called the Wells Faygo express
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| The cargo, so I hear, Faygo old-fashioned root beer
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| The tasty drink with creamy head goodness
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| «Look out! |
| It’s a holdup! |
| It’s Black Bart!»
|
| «Oh! |
| Save me! |
| For my life I fear!»
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| «Oh, hush up, gal. |
| It’s that famous drink I want
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| That case of Faygo old-fashioned root beer»
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| «Stand where you are
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| Black Bart, you are through»
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| So, the stagecoach went on headin' through the mountains
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| And old Black Bart went off to jail, I hear
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| The Faygo Kid. |
| Which way did he go? |
| Which way did he go?
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| He went for Faygo!
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| «Now's the time for you to go for Faygo old-fashioned root beer
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| The big one-liter bottle is now on sale at participating grocers» |