Lax

Big D And The Kids Table

hey, elitists from L.A.

(Los Angeles, California):

you know who you are

you're driving fancy cars

your allowance exceeds my rent

listen to what I have to say

remind yourselves every day

let's get the message on its way --



well first of all

fuck your fucking attitudes

how can you be so fucking rude?

you fucking look at me like when girls are jealous

and fuck your fucking L.A. bars

you're all a bunch of wannabe superstars

yeah, fuck your fucking act

you're a bunch of dressed up fucking rats



you get anything you want

mommy's dressed up fucking runt

you're fucking lounging in

daddy's fucking mansion

and all your fucking stupid names

Blair and Titus, that's fucking lame

Z-A-C does not spell Zack,

what the fuck is with all that?



you think you're so fucking impressive

if you get your name on a fucking guest list

raise your nose to the people in line

give the doorman a fucking high five



and then go:

do my shoes match my shirt?

does my shirt clash with my pants?

do my pants match my eyes?

do my eyes look good tonight?

will this place be cool enough?

your hair looks oh, so tough

this looks so good for us

tonight my money's gonna buy me love



and fuck all of your deceiving

what is your fake heart fake fucking bleeding?

and all the girls you lay on your mat

are the same fucking girls you fucking laugh at

and fuck your fucking fake ass world

and all your handed out fucking thrills

some of us, we have to work hard

just to get our little part

and maybe your clan lives right in Boston

but my friends are fucking awesome

and we'll keep on doing our best

even though our lives are a mess



and we go:

will this check support this tour?

will this tour lose my job?

without my job, where's the rent?

should we all just call it quits?

and dinner dates sure cost a lot

when 28 bucks is all you got

and your life