последний из рода НАСТОЯЩИХ ТАРАКАНОВ

Saturday night, I was downtown, 12 before the FBI, Heading in a nail for bedrins, with your father's father's eyes. Food-legged booths are on the west side, for the people who are doing wrong. Yes, I better call up the DA man, when I do this one, I sing the song. I'm clear about a fire, baby, off of my knife.