Peppy

These old sneakers, faded blue jeans, no tricks, no gimmicks
I be stomping down-down, down-down, down demons
Rolling up trees in the belly of the beast
Where the people disagree
The upper class hate, middle don't exist
The bottom of the beat, glad I got my sticks
Are you jumping on a fad, laying in a ditch
I be stomping down demons, stomping down quick, come on