Yo
Look who dipped from the beach to the sticks
Used to slang shots now he’s writing his scripts
Moved to Nash, got a stash full of theories
Still talking lizard shit like it’s fucking serious
Scoot at the Ball was a menace, a beast
Screaming about aliens, drunk off the yeast
Starting debates just to ruin your peace
Now he is gone... and the chaos deceased
Beach Ball is quiet — no vibe, no fighting
No blackout rants about the moon not lighting
You left a void, like a shot with no lime
So we roast your ass while we toast to the time
You wrecked the bar, blessed the scene
A Newport prince with a cracked crown gleam
Now it is your birthday — go take a shot
From the West Coast crew who never forgot
Happy fucking birthday, Scooter

Yo
Look who dipped from the beach to the sticks,
Used to slang shots now he’s writin' his scripts,
Moved to Nash, got a stash full of theories,
Still talkin’ lizard shit like it’s f**in’ serious!*
Scoot at the Ball was a menace, a beast,
Screamin’ ‘bout aliens, drunk off the yeast,
Startin’ debates just to ruin your peace,
Now he's gone... and the chaos deceased.
Beach Ball’s quiet — no vibe, no fightin’,
No blackout rants ‘bout the moon not lightin’.
You left a void, like a shot with no lime,
So we roast your ass while we toast to the time—
You wrecked the bar, blessed the scene,
A Newport prince with a cracked crown gleam,
Now it’s your birthday — go take a shot,
From the West Coast crew who never forgot.
Happy fuckin’ birthday, Scooter.

Yo—

Look who dipped from the beach to the sticks,
Used to slang shots now he’s writin' his scripts,
Moved to Nash, got a stash full of theories,
Still talkin’ lizard shit like it’s f**in’ serious!*

Scoot at the Ball was a menace, a beast,
Screamin’ ‘bout aliens, drunk off the yeast,
Startin’ debates just to ruin your peace,
Now he's gone... and the chaos deceased.

Beach Ball’s quiet — no vibe, no fightin’,
No blackout rants ‘bout the moon not lightin’.
You left a void, like a shot with no lime,
So we roast your ass while we toast to the time—

You wrecked the bar, blessed the scene,
A Newport prince with a cracked crown gleam,
Now it’s your birthday — go take a shot,
From the West Coast crew who never forgot.

Happy fuckin’ birthday, Scooter.

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