| Godsmack in a straight-jacket
|
| A mac and a knife
|
| A broad’s back and it’s broad back at the taxi a trife
|
| Motherfucker the life lights motherfucker the lights
|
| Fuck it, it’s bright as a motherfucker
|
| He right as a motherfucker
|
| The rain can’t stay in those plastic canisters
|
| And the brain pan is pandering
|
| Dang, man, he keeping it tucked (what?)
|
| The nine in the space between his spine and the belt
|
| Buckle, the safety is on, fine, his rocker is offline
|
| He rocking that cap fitted, she sit in his lap kissin'
|
| The driver, he laughs, nobody see him, he gas dippin'
|
| The road slick, ass slippin' and then
|
| He hope they’re paying in cash
|
| Sick of these hipster-ass kissers kissing everyone’s ass but his
|
| History major, ain’t doing shit with it, but what would he do?
|
| Teach at the fucking new school of the arts?
|
| For a bunch of hooligan upstarts
|
| Full of themselves, not smart enough to grapple with anything real
|
| That’s when the Jaguar emblem
|
| Crashed through the driver-side window
|
| And the driver of the Jaguar’s head left his body
|
| Still sitting in the rental
|
| The couple all bloody
|
| Tongues punctured by each others teeth
|
| Died and didn’t let go
|
| The taximan’s been bisected by the hood of a car
|
| He’d never buy, probably would never drive
|
| Randy was the first on the scene
|
| Seeing this, couldn’t breathe for a hot sec
|
| Just transferred up from the desk
|
| 'cause he thought he was ready, but he not yet
|
| Hashbrown and eggs on his shirt
|
| And the pant leg, soon as he caught a whiff
|
| Hadn’t thrown up more than once since he was a little kid
|
| And his brother made him drink a half bottle of
|
| Pine-Sol, spinal everywhere
|
| He wrote the report as soon as he left the scene
|
| Mind all everywhere, he gotta get more booze soon
|
| Or he gonna scream
|
| Time all funny when his stomach goes skydive
|
| What year was it last?
|
| Hadn’t had a drink in about five
|
| But mama said every day was just made for sipping away
|
| He may be slipping
|
| But hey, nobody said they was perfect
|
| Randy got somebody by the collar, pistol to the face
|
| Swore he just said something 'bout his mama, say it to my face
|
| Not so funny when I got a chopper all up in your mouth
|
| Where the fucking jokes? |
| You a comedian, man, spit it out
|
| Spit it out, spit it out, why you ain’t gon' spit it out?
|
| Break a couple teeth and give him something he can spit about
|
| Blood dripping all on his wrist, boy Randy got it cold, right
|
| That Police Academy shit, he don’t run from no fights
|
| He don’t run from nothin'
|
| Nothing left for discussin'
|
| Scumsuckers all over drinkin', smokin', yellin' and cussin'
|
| Last week got a call 'bout some drug dealer stabbing his cousin
|
| These cats is animals, they should be in a zoo or somethin'
|
| And he protect and serve, these bitches got some nerve
|
| Trying not to serve him when he keep killers off of they curbs
|
| Killers off of they streets, these killers off of they minds
|
| So they can go to sleep at night and think that everything’s fine
|
| He had a glass of wine to calm him down, that was a’ight
|
| Was talking to this sexy girl, half black and half white
|
| He asked her what she wanted, ordered up another pint
|
| When they told him he was cut off and all Randy saw was lights
|
| And Randy starts to cry, he can’t figure out why
|
| He told his sister walk, unless she stop kissing that guy
|
| She said «You ain’t my dad!» |
| He said «Bitch, catch a cab.»
|
| And that’s the last discussion she and Randy ever had |