Hey man I heard that if you’re out for number one
The guys down at the station use ink inside the gun
I’ll strike the match but my soul won’t be for sale
I’ll write you dudes another one the check is in the mail
Aren’t we all just sinners
Cause you know we ain’t ever been saints
But that’s how it is
We we’re never good friends in the first place, yeah
It all go down
It all goes down
How it all goes down
In the contract
All of this bickering keeps ringing on inside
I keep deciding to forget you
Better ways to spend the days than counting up the red