Hip hop has blown my mind
John Cash has done his time
When you and I were in the weeds drinking wine
I loved your soul and I loved your mind
But I miss those hip hop thights
Cold co*ked by Patsy Kline
At an all night police bar one time
From guns on a roof to the acid jazz
To the reels and the rhyms of that gaelic trash
Dancin with the next lead singer of The Clash
Guns on the bar and his hands on your american a**
Hip-hop tore up his mind
Thought he was dancin with Patsy Kline
Now the local girl off the police line
Cheek to cheek and that 3/4 time
Tryin to make lemonade from limes
But no lime he ever made nothing like I walk the line
John Cash has done his time
Hip-hop has blown my mind
I miss the lies and the weeds and wine
And the bump and grinds and your queasy smile
And the prize that lies between your hip-hop thighs
Your hip-hop thighsx4