Artist: Dr. Acula
Fake flippers and nickel bag bitches.
Oxi cotton itches and friends turned to snitches.
Suburban superstar in your daddy's car.
Pushin' cut yayo in your lo-cal bar.
The day came you tried to step up your game,
Featherweight prick tried to pass of a brick.
The hard way ain't no place for a fake.
Picket white cheer smells of fresh green fear give it up.
Give it up.
Give it up.
Sheltered generation instigation frustration.
A saint like life destroyed in a night.
prescription hiding idols sedated a recitals.
Producing future generations of unkempt denial.
Don't send a child to do a man's work.
You'll be living in a box six feet under the dirt.
Don't believe everything you see on TV.
'Cause the day is gonna come when you meet somebody just like me.
Ruthless decimators devoures of youth.
No mortal coil while disposing.
'Cause this place is dark and it's where you'll stay.
Like so many before you in these dead in days
|1||Careful What You Wish For...|
|3||Keep On Running In Place|
|4||The Party Is Over (Locked On Target)|
|6||Dressed for Transylvania In the Boiling Weather (Lipstick Guys)|
|8||Robot People From Hell|
|9||Suburban Superstar (Strung Out On Strong Island)|
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|Dr. Acula - Nation Album Lyrics|
|1.||Careful What You Wish For...|
|3.||Keep On Running In Place|
|4.||The Party Is Over (Locked On Target)|
|6.||Dressed for Transylvania In the Boiling Weather (Lipstick Guys)|
|8.||Robot People From Hell|
|9.||Suburban Superstar (Strung Out On Strong Island)|
|4||Suburban Superstar (Strung Out On Strong Island)|
|5||Robot People From Hell|
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