They're the end crowd.
We're the other ones.
It's a different kind of cloth that we cut from.
We let the colors show.
We're the numbers ain't.
We're the paint.
We're the ain't supposed to be paint.
That's who we are.
That's how we roll.
The outside.
The outside.
Yeah,
we get high and the leather gets stained when
we saddle up and ride them in the pulling rank.
We're the junkyard dog.
We're the attackers.
Keep the wind out of front and the hail out of back.
That's who we are.
We do our touring.
Walk that ball.
Wild over rocking.
That's how we roll.
Back to the wall.
A band of brothers.
Together and only outsiders.
We're the riders.
We're the ones running rubber on our tires.
Yeah, we're the fighters.
They all nighter.
The firework and get a little higher.
Oh, whoa,
whoa,
whoa.
Oh,
whoa, whoa, whoa.
With the bad news with the young guns,
with the ones that they told you to run from.
Yeah,
play is going to play and a hate is going to hate.
And a regulator's born to regulate.
When it hits the fan and it all goes down and the gloves come off,
you're going to find out just who we are.
We do our touring.
Walk that ball.
Wild over rocking.
That's how we roll.
Back to the wall.
A band of brothers.
Together and only outsiders.
We're the riders.
We're the ones running rubber on our tires.
Yeah, we're the fighters.
They all nighter.
The firework and get a little higher.
Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Oh,
whoa, whoa,
whoa.
We are.