Lyrics City Liners - Good Rats

City Liners

Every Friday night at ten, I would call for my best friend
And sneak a couple of his daddy’s Ballantine
Do them in a flash, getting off behind the trash
Then we’d run to catch the Double A to City Line
The boys would meet, on a dead end street
Brag about their women, to pass away the time
And shoot, the breeze, on their knees
Oh how I miss that City line