[Instrumentation: Dirty, overdriven guitars with snarling, blues-infused licks, tight but explosive drums, gritty bass locking in with a sleazy swagger, and a searing, wah-heavy solo that wails with reckless abandon.] [Intro: Riff based buildup by slowly developing a groove by adding one instrument at a time] [Verse 1: Stripped-down, streetwise riff with a raw, snarling vocal delivery.] Hit the strip to clear my mind, Set down to sip my gin Light up a cigarette Separate fact from fiction When trouble finds me, i'm not lyin' eyes green long black hair friend, foe she won't share Chances to run slowly dyin' [Pre-chorus] Nothing I say, nothing I do Nothing that you even see Trouble will brew and the notion that it is you Getting those scratches all over me [Chorus] Got my own sack of cats with claws that rip Don't wanna talk, let alone slip Where I live, I've got my own sack of cats [Verse 2: The riff snarls harder, the bass grinds deeper, and the vocals spit with even more grit] P-please lady, you hear what I say You can't see the cuts Your kind always doing what they please No if ands or buts Now listen to me once and listen to me twice Double dealers and the two timers It always implies [Pre-chorus] [Chorus] [Guitar Solo: Slash-style screamin' bends, sleazy blues runs, wah-drenched wails] [Bridge: A slow-burning, bluesy breakdown with a slithering guitar line and a dangerous, hypnotic vocal then snapping back to full throttle] I've got chaos at the casa That burns like lava My kitten dealin' the damage A bag of drama One step, two steps Three closer to the clear You'll hear boots book it to the car And watch me disappear [Pre-chorus] [Chorus]