Good Stuff Lyrics

Last time, it was past my prime I didn't know when or where, how or what the fuck? But I took my cue, had no clue Threw my beaut down the chute In a minute, it was just a joke Then my head went up in smoke I was serious, complete design in my mind Had no track to roll back to back Last time, it was wicked clear The scapegoat sign on the rise Scrapin' the stars from God's ass And lookin' like a janitor wrapped in fur When the blues shot fierce And pierced their ears They grabbed their beers And disappeared into a vacuum When you're down with the high Fingers in their thighs And they got some And they got to clap! Oh yeah! Last time, it was past my prime I didn't know when or where or what the fuck But I took my cue, had no clue And through my boot down the chute For a minute, it was just a joke And then my head went up in smoke It was serious, complete design in my mind Had no track to roll back to back Yeah! Fuckin up with the good stuff, keep my hands so tan Fuckin up with the good stuff, keep my hands so tan Good stuff! Fuckin up with the good stuff Keep my hands so tan...