Well, you run down to the corner to see what you can cop
You buy some for your sister, you take yours off the top
Running to the bathroom, fixing up a shot
Tie it up, shoot it up, bang it up, throw it up

Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
I don't wanna fuck around with you

Your life becomes as sickening as that mess you call your face
That pig you call your girlfriend, she's dead from shooting mace
Climbing up the walls, shooting old moth balls
Wrap it up, call it art, now your record hits the chart

Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
I don't wanna fuck around with you

Too much junk
Too much junk
Too much junk
Too much junk
Too much junk
Too much junk
I don't wanna see her hanging out with you

You're the coolest thing in town with your face flat on the ground
Friends emptied your pockets as the coffin went down
Overdose at last, spike stuck in your head
Now you're dead, dead, dead, dead

Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
Too much junkie business
I don't wanna fuck around with you

Too much junk
Too much junk
Too much junk

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Composição: Johnny Thunders / Walter Lure · Esse não é o compositor? Nos avise.
Enviada por GABRIELA, Traduzida por Amilton
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