Change for a Dollar?
Ram a roll of quarters up ya ass
Whiskey and butter?
Thunder crackin’ in your hole
I ate my accountant
like a turkey leg done rolled in sugar
bit his dead ass to the bone
gimme my brokedick guitar… son.
Who got the brown paper bag?
I got a cold beer over here needs coverin’
this ain’t Berlin, ya bastard
I got a dog in my pants without
a chain
Last job paid a dollar
every 60 days
i ate the bumper off a chrysler
it tasted of Jesus Christ and Elmer’s glue
Play some dominos
Play some jax
Play some Tina Turner, and I’ll drag my dick down
ya cheekbone…
Don’t Hound me
Don’t fiddle about…
Don’t fidget…
Don’t fuck about, son.
I know i’m out of tune, bitch
i gamble with your pride
there’s a snake in the grass hunting tight assholes
better yours than mine, two times
barkin’ for a dollar
sneezin and i’m bleedin’ bright,
I got christ ringing around my collar, cain’t fuckun’
sleep at night, good
Lard.
