Do the way you do it Turn up the radio So what if we lose control So throw your hands in the air Come on and make this count It's only you and me, never mind this crowd Do it like nobody's around, whoa So put your hands in the air Come on and waste no

All you got to do is put a drink in my hand To fill it up, or throw it down Yeah fill it up, or throw it down Early Monday morning, til Friday at five Man I work, work, work but I don't climb, climb, climb Boss man can shove that overtime up his can All

I'm not o.k. I'm just another psycho They opened up the door, to my insanity They should've slammed it shut right then And thrown away the key They stitched up my head, from my lobotomy They should've never let me out

Put this shit back in motion Mmm, hmmm, mmm Now's the time to just clear the air Now you finally open, I'm just tryna be only We been ashin' our roaches Throw them shits in a bowl and (smoke that shit up) Rollin' one and mow, now we fired up Now we both

Oh no, oh no Show us that we're wrong and that's the one thing we can't be Oh no, oh no no no And throw away the key, boys The Joneses, they're not like you or me Lock 'em up, tight 'Cause if they had the chance they might Throw away the key, boys So

Let's go make a mess of the bed we made this morning Like the roofs been hit by hurricane Throw those pillows on the hardwood And tangle those sheets up real good Let's go make a mess of, make a mess of the bed we made Let's go make, let's go make make a

That's how we ball out I still got my money Watch it all fall out Pour it up, pour it up Throw it, throw it up Throw it up, throw it up And I still got my money 'Cause I still got my money

You ain't shine if you don't learn to glo, glo up How you finna shine with all that shade you throw, grow up White Ghost, ten toes, inside Gucci loafer I'd rather be dying than be going broke I would rather die before I lose this though Swear to God You

When I grow up, I want to be a forester Run through the moss on high heels That's what I'll do, throwing out a boomerang Waiting for it to come back to me When I grow up, I want to live near the sea Crab claws and bottles of rum That's what I'll have

Is it the end of an era? Is it the end of America? When the world was at war before We just kept dancing And we'll do it again Shake it up, throw your hands up and get loose Cut a rug, lean into the fucking youth Choreo, we just want the fucking truth