The music monkeys in my band, they love to jump on dirty grounds,
no more tricks to play the next round,
injection of the speed of sound.
You do so, you just go,
ascension to the highest flow,
right here I couldn't feel alone,
a little storm is going on.
So pay the price of karma punk,
I shoot some words you play that gun,
keep burning up, keep falling down
keep raising up now you're not bound.
Don't mind if we step back,
we want to make one big bang slap,
take care on what you listen now,
'cause funky soul is on the top.
One!
Two!
Black skin in your back,
now you've become a shot,
a beattle on the grass,
and the business of my soul,
you made me hit the floor.
I made you let it go.