Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. I don't wanna be a clone. Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. I'll get by on my own. Clean veins, clear brains. Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. Leave— Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. Leave me alone. I followed the crooked footsteps. They go nowhere. Why follow the crooked footsteps when I’ve got clean veins, clear brains? The pressure's high and so are all your friends. If you stay strong, you'll find that you belong with the out-of-step, the exed-out hands—a different crew where it's enough for you to be you.