I call em disco thugs
They ain’t much fun
They rob, they steal
Then spend it all in the club.
I can’t stand them, they make the city rotten
And the Disco encourages the nonsense.
Any-who, before the conversation started
I peep an old pimp walking down without his hands in his pocket.
Fly old pimp feather hat with the suit, he seemed about it.
The Disco thugs started talking which brought me back into focus, “ oh it’s guitar boy, the disco hater, what’s popping !”
I respond, “ I’m not a hater I just don’t like the music. “
Whatever your hater, we should Rob you and leave you feeling stupid”
I took my hands out my Pocket
Put my fist up. I’m about it.
The thugs laugh and just brush past me
“We will catch you later, I’m tired from the partying”
Jive talking fools
Don’t say it unless you do it, mama always taught me that.
I continue my walk, the old man was still on the other side block,
Walking down bring it on ave like I was.
I put my hands in pocket cause you never know what can happens
Disappearing money is myth I ain’t trying.
Once I put my hands back in my pocket
I check for my 20 it was gone
Look to my right the old man had a 20 in his hand laughing along
What the hell is going on