He's got no time for conversation, no long terms dreams.
He's white and he's angry from a wealthy family tree.
Polishes the twenty-twos on his SUV,
A pa**ion for lifting weights and dirty magazines.
In his mind he pops a wheelie perpetually,
Revs up the crotch rocket right into the sea.
He wants to be an action star, but his hairline recedes.
He lives in the suburbs and he's freakin' eXtreme.
Pleasure over progress, a motto so obscene.
Why tap logic or reason when there's ladies on the scene?
It's a tragedy. Ha!
No worries... he's freakin' eXtreme! eXtreme!