think I'd rather go hang out with my friends. Oh-wee-oh! I'd rather go hang out with my friends. Oh-wee-oh! I'd rather go hang out with my friends. Oh
and me, living out our dreams We're all right where we should be Lift my arms out wide I open my eyes And now all I wanna see Is a sky full of lighters
a whole lot going on Small town Friday night Revving up at a red light On your mark get set go Pass a mom and pop restraunt Same four trucks parked out
but it's pain in the end Pain, pain, pain, pain Gold rope wearer, neighborhood terror Can't hang around my mother 'cause she says I scare her Got a light
spree You say you wanna be down, you gotta talk to me You wanna get in? Put a sucker's head out Sound a little hot for you, boy? Then, toy, get out Syndicate
show Now clap your hands if you got a bank roll Like some clap on lights in this bitch I?ma be clapping all night in this bitch Lights off, man it's
how you used to love to dance I'm gonna go out tonight I'm gonna drive up to the hill I'm gonna dive on into those city lights And I'm gonna dance,
settle down. I guess they can't revoke your soul for tryin', Get out of the door and light out and look all around. Sometimes the light's all shinin
to settle down I guess they can't revoke your soul for tryin' Get out of the door and light out and look all around Sometimes the light's all shinin
Just to navigate it, wood decorated on chrome And it's candy painted, fans fainted, while I'm entertainin' Wild ain't it? How me and money end up hangin' Plus I hang
in this awful downpour Then struggle free and paddle out the cellar door When you are swimming in Miami at night And all around you are the traffic and city lights
A cloud hangs over this city by the sea I watch the ships pass and wonder if she might be Out there and sober as well from loneliness Please do persist
heat of the night, when you know it ain't right But you do what you wanna do You do what you feel, 'cause no one can feel Like you Out in the summertime city
'Round here we blow treez 'Round here we blow treez Hey yo, move out, roll in Haters out, **** in Walk in the club, low brim Hanging out like clothes
rollers You know what I'm sayin'? The saga of the Philly Blunt continues The flava's the P Funk y'all get wit it, check it out Check out a new type of
