Pomona - Chris Lord-Alge, American Fangs

I ain’t cha long time I’m impatient

She keeps saying that we ain’t ready to go

Ain’t holding hands, watching for the traffic, traffic

We ain’t ready to go

I said won’t you wait a minute

Won’t you wait a minute

Hurry up I’m waiting for you

Won’t you wait a minute

Won’t you wait a minute

Hurry up I’m waiting for you

Whoa, whoa, whoa, shake it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, twist it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, burn it up

Till we all fall down

I don’t want your hourglass,

Keep ya cheap cigarettes

We ain’t ready to go

It ain’t the spot, the shade

Tonight, then no, no

We ain’t ready to go

I said won’t you wait a minute

Won’t you wait a minute

Hurry up I’m waiting for you

Won’t you wait a minute

Won’t you wait a minute

Hurry up I’m waiting for you, you

Whoa, whoa, whoa, shake it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, twist it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, burn it up

Till we all fall down

Whoa, whoa, whoa, shake it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, twist it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, burn it up

Till we all fall down

Wow!

Wow!

Wow!

Wow till we all fall down

Maxed out blacked out, know what I’m talking 'bout?

Draped up, dripped out, sippin' to serve

Backpack, no stacks, keys to the Cadillac

We ain’t leaving even if you’re ready to go

Whoa, whoa, whoa, oh, oh, oh…

Till we all fall down

Whoa, whoa, whoa, shake it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, twist it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, burn it up

Till we all fall down

Whoa, whoa, whoa, shake it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, twist it up

Whoa, whoa, whoa, burn it up

Till we all fall down

Wow!