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name's
Underneath the mud on the ol' tailgate

CHORUS
It's a cowboy cadillac, mud grips, gun rack
Factory four-on-the-floor
Quarter tank of gas
on the move
I think about givin' it up sometimes,
And gettin' in a diff'ren groove
But I just let the days slide by,
Get goin' with the flow
A four beat's
Words by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie

Victor Jara of Chile
Lived like a shooting star
He fought for the people of Chile
With his songs
Forgive me if my laughter sounds cracked
Forgive me if I smile badly
It's only that I've run off the track
Derailed by the irony

Forgive me if
hundred S drivin with hand on trigger
Crazy Lestat, check my track record
Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old
So what that mean?  I roll
Your future, your future I would tell to you
Your future you often have asked me
Your true love will die by your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
Your future, your future I would tell to you
Your future you often have asked me
Your true love will die by your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
y'all" "To the beat y'all" "To the beat y'all" "To the beat y'all"
Y'knahmsayin? Ain't no future in yo' frontin

I never got caught with a kilo
If you ever
Have a little of prosperity and then some
Livin' my life handsome, has always been a dream but
Now it's time to really achieve by all means (Bust it)
the future tracks from the past)
This is radio-mass (I'm a thief I stole the beat)
This is radio-mass (Tracks from the future tracks from the past)
This is
Your future, your future I would tell to you
Your future you often have asked me
Your true love will die by your own right hand
And crazy man Michael
This way was different shit, I ain't afraid to face that
This time, made up my mind, on my grind
On some James Brown, it's the Big Payback

Four by four
And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin me
Ain't no mystery

On the outside peekin in
End of your
For the groove
And them bomb beats
To make me move

Color of dead
Looks like the future is history

Why you dissin' me
ain't no mystery
of my life

Remember then? bit o honey days
Back when 8-tracks were the craze with that Far-out sound
And the future seemed so far away
And we'd
"Your future, your future, I would tell to you.
Your future, you often have asked me.
Your true love will die by your own right hand.
And Crazy Man
they've dried naturally
Accolades from laying tracks like a rap factory
Get sacked, cause I'm back - tackling raps like I'm an athlete
Quit your
Vroom! Get at me the Doctor is fine
Cadillac transform into Optimus Prime, I ain't lyin'
I'm the future satellite dish on the Coupe
Wanna be hood down
hundred S drivin with hand on trigger
Crazy Lestat, check my track record
Everything I touch is gold since eighteen years old
So what that mean?  I roll
fumbling-guilt-ridden cartilage
Decay.

hung by the wire
Held in the mire
The paste will stay
Eroding in place
Stung bit and charred
Ashen and scarred
The paste will stay
things are related, you see we're all intertwined
I'm sippin' wine by the fire where the love runs deep
Honor, truth, and respect will be the tracks that
perpetuating, articulating 
Balla's down four, you can't take me 

What the deal ma 
Funkey Mama plays the track so you could feel, huh? 
I'll make a D, I'm
busy playa hatin', perpetuating, articulating 
Balla's down four, you can't take me 

What the deal ma 
Funkey Mama plays the track so you could
a little of prosperity and then some
Livin my life handsome, has always been a dream but
Now it's time to really achieve by all means (Bust it)
I keep my
the rail band
Picking up the beat
We lit that great reunion
With the headlights on the jeep

And there's history on the jukebox
Where the spies