| Bored at work, bored at home
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| ‘Bout to go berserk when I heard the phone
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| Who could it be? |
| Caller unknown
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| Still pick it up cuz I’m all alone
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| ‘Yo who’s this?' |
| ‘Charlie Hughes'
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| ‘Racecar, man, what’s good witchu?'
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| ‘A whole bunch of nothin', ain’t shit to do
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| Got a little somethin' somethin' so I’ll slide on through'
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| Half an hour later and he’s at my door
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| Anxious to see what the kid done scored
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| Got a little weed, but I need some more
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| Hell, anything’ll do cuz I’m so damn bored
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| Now me ‘n Race stay blown like a song with Psalm
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| But my face turned stone when he dropped the bomb
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| Opened my hand and it’s o-o-on
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| Put a little piece of paper in my open palm
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| Drop that, pop the tab
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| Got a lot of blotter ‘n a spot to crash
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| Put it on your tongue ‘n knock it back
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| Worlds gone crazy, but ya got to laugh
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| Caps, rolls, I like those
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| But a dipped cheerio’ll blow your dome
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| Lucy’s in the sky with a dozen stones
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| But these ruby slippers won’t get you home
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| Now I’m ridin' my bike like I’m Albert Hoffman
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| Been here before, but not too often
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| The sky turned yellow like a Sony Walkman
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| ‘N Racecar’s face started meltin' off him
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| Stop ‘n sit down, better take it easy
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| Before I go further like my man Ken Kesey
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| Robots is lurkin', man, they think they sneaky
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| But I ain’t worried cuz I got Yoshimi
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| Dreamy, placid, chasin' rabbits
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| Teeny tablets laced with magic
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| See me plastered, ain’t he batshit?
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| Evening, bastards, take some acid
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| Racecar:
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| Micro-psycho-tabalicious
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| Nitro-hypo-mad-delicious
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| Average isn’t savage visions
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| Cabbage damage, habit hittin'
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| Ammunition, passionate patches of pastel
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| Pass me a pair to tackle
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| Mellow, mean and moody
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| Got these fellows lean and groovy
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| Oohy-oohy and a movie
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| Reachin' peak again in UV
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| You see, I see, you see LB
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| Tune in, turn in, TOUCHDOWN! |
| Tell me
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| Meltin' bubblin' teeth like Chicklets
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| Three more peaks, this shit’s ridiculous!
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| Got my vision spinnin' ‘n it just won’t stop
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| My brain about to shimmy shimmy coco pop! |