East Side Mags by The Bouncing Souls Lyrics

Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride

Through the park, past the dog run
Smell of shit burning in the sun
Watch the cab, dent his door
Happy hour's here, let's pick up Jorge

Lock 'em up, lock 'em up, lock 'em up
Three cold beers in a cup

Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride

Inside Coney, something ain't right
Too many people on a Friday night
I can't see straight in the flashing lights
I got a feeling there's gonna be a fight
Pack it up, wrap it up, saddle up
Full tank of liquor in our guts

Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride

Drink 'em down, we gotta ride
Going up to the lower east side
Day or night, mags on the run
Looking for trouble, looking for fun

BMX, we got suss
When we ride, don't mess with us!

Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride
Ride, ride, ride, ride