He's smoking cones in the bush

There's a trolli pile in his bag

He's hucking rocks at cars

You know he's not going to class

He's a deadshit baby (he's a deadshit, deadshit)

Sparkler bombs and broken glass

Look him in the eye and he'll drop you on your ass

Don't turn around or drop your gutt

Or take your bike or your board or take your phone or your card

He's a deadshit baby

(he's a deadshit, deadshit)

He's a deadshit baby

(he's a deadshit, deadshit)

He's a deadshit baby

(he's a deadshit, deadshit)

He's a deadshit baby

(he's a deadshit, deadshit)

He's a deadshit baby

(he's a deadshit, deadshit)