East Side Mags Lyrics - Bouncing Souls - Bouncing Souls

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 

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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! 

Photos 

Ride, ride, ride, ride 

Ride, ride, ride, ride 

Ride, ride, ride, ride 

Ride, ride, ride, ride