We took this trip to Garden Grove
  It smelled like Lou-dog inside the van, oh yeah
  This ain't no funky reggae party, $5 at the door
  It gets so real sometimes, who wrote my rhyme
  I got the microwave, got the VCR
  I got the deuce-deuce in the trunk of my car, oh yeah
      If you only knew all the love that I found
  It's hard to keep my soul on the ground
  You're a fool, don't fuck around with my dog
  All that I can see I steal, I fill up my garage
      Cause in my mind
  Music from Jamaica, all the love that I found
  Pull over there's a reason why my soul's unsound
      It's you
  It's that shit stuck under my shoe
  It's that smell inside the van
  It's my bed sheet covered with sand
  Sitting through a shitty band
  Getting dog shit on my hands
  Getting hassled by the man
      Waking up to an alarm
  Sticking needles in your arm
  Picking up trash on a freeway
  Feeling depressed everyday
  Leaving without making a sound
  Picking my dog at the pound
  Living in a tweaker pad
  Getting yelled at by my dad
      Saying I'm happy when I'm not
  Finding roaches in the pot
  All these things I do
  They're waiting for you.
      Thanks to Greg Muller (sublime8090@yahoo.com) for these lyrics