Lyrics: Garden Grove
Artist: Sublime
Album: Second Hand Smoke
Song: Garden Grove
Released: 1997
Rating:
47.3 out of 100Please log in to rate this song.
Garden Grove lyrics
(Here they come now, you see that?
Yep, both of the crews
They look they gonna fight)
We took this trip to Garden Grove
It smelt like Lou in the van, oh yeah
This ain't no funky reggae party $5 at the door
It gets so real sometimes, who wrote my rhyme
I got the microwave, got the VCR
I got the deuce-deuce in the trunk of my car oh yeah
If you only knew that all the love that I found
It's hard to keep my soul on the ground.
You’re a fool, don't fuck around with my God
All I can see I steal
My folks don't understand
But my mind music from Jamaica
All the love that I found
Pull over there's a reason why my soul is unsound
It's you, it's that shit stuck under my shoe
It's that smell inside the van
It's my bed sheet covered with sand
Sitting through a shitty band
Getting dog shit on my hands
Getting hassled by the man
Waking up to an alarm
Sticking needles in your arm
Picking up trash on the freeway
Feeling depressed every day
Leaving without making a sound
Pickin’ up my dog at the pound
Livin’ in a tweaker pad
Getting yelled at by my dad
Acting happy when I'm not
Finding roaches in the pot
All these things I do
They're waiting for you
Yep, both of the crews
They look they gonna fight)
We took this trip to Garden Grove
It smelt like Lou in the van, oh yeah
This ain't no funky reggae party $5 at the door
It gets so real sometimes, who wrote my rhyme
I got the microwave, got the VCR
I got the deuce-deuce in the trunk of my car oh yeah
If you only knew that all the love that I found
It's hard to keep my soul on the ground.
You’re a fool, don't fuck around with my God
All I can see I steal
My folks don't understand
But my mind music from Jamaica
All the love that I found
Pull over there's a reason why my soul is unsound
It's you, it's that shit stuck under my shoe
It's that smell inside the van
It's my bed sheet covered with sand
Sitting through a shitty band
Getting dog shit on my hands
Getting hassled by the man
Waking up to an alarm
Sticking needles in your arm
Picking up trash on the freeway
Feeling depressed every day
Leaving without making a sound
Pickin’ up my dog at the pound
Livin’ in a tweaker pad
Getting yelled at by my dad
Acting happy when I'm not
Finding roaches in the pot
All these things I do
They're waiting for you
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