| Headed out for Austin, now were half way down the road.
|
| Hollering budda-budda-budda-budda-by! |
| Steady staring out the window.
|
| It fells good, it fells nice, it feels like you need it.
|
| And back out on the road is where we like to be seated.
|
| We got half-pint style, we got a b-boy style. |
| We got half-pint style,
|
| we got a b-boy style.
|
| We got to put that shit together in a creative style. |
| We put that shit
|
| together in a creative style.
|
| Outside on the pavement I won’t feel afraid,
|
| there’s a little piece of paper saying how we walked that May.
|
| Back out on the highway, and this hurts to say,
|
| No one’s got fingers, I got no one to blame.
|
| I can’t make you overstand, rising up in a hip-hop stance.
|
| Society’s got to me.
|
| That’s all you need!
|
| Headed out to Houston, now where halfway out the door.
|
| Hollering budda-budda-budda-budda-by! |
| Staring out the window.
|
| It fells good, it feels nice, it feels like you need it.
|
| I know how females like to be treated.
|
| A license for me and the stars up above,
|
| And on the interstate I fell love, love, love.
|
| And If I never realize then that’s how it has to be,
|
| And all DJs out there got to give me money.
|
| Back out on the freeway, I won’t fell sane.
|
| Little yellow headlights look like snails smashed in the rain.
|
| Back out on the highway, and this hurts to say,
|
| Blown out speakers, I got no one to blame.
|
| I can’t make you overstand, rising up in a hip-hop stance.
|
| Society’s got to me.
|
| That’s all you need! |
| Yea.
|
| I can ???, but I won’t see,
|
| Because no one can tell you, you’ve got to be afraid.
|
| We got to go back on the highway, live behind the wheel.
|
| I want it real! |