Lyrics:
moving, mmm
Out in the woods
Or in the city
It's all the same to me
When I'm driving free
The world's my home
When I'm mobile
Hee, woo, beep-beep
And I would send a message
To find out if she's talked
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked
Oh, Mama, can this really be
And I would send a message
To find out if she's talked
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked
Oh, Mama, can this really be
a mobile
Everything's changing
When I turn around
All out of my control
I'm a mobile
Start back at this life
Stretch myself back into the vibe
a mobile
Everything's changing
When I turn around
All out of my control
I'm a mobile
Start back at this life
Stretch myself back into the vibe
shit first I do it worse I promise I don't got opps
I a sell a P up in my flops cause its a button up on my Glock
I Ran it up just out a mobile office
at the grill on my pimp mobile)
This for my niggas who don't give a fuck (look at the grill on my pimp mobile)
Old grill smile, wiling out up in the VIP
when I come home about sun up this mornin'
Well, I detected somethin' mighty strange
Her and the car and the mobile home are gone boys
I was takin' off
highway Pebble Beach,
Alabama's just out of reach.
Louissiana, temp swamp.
(Swamp!)
Montana on a mountain top.
(On a mountain top!)
Mobile home...
when I come home about sun up this mornin'
Well, I detected somethin' mighty strange
Her and the car and the mobile home are gone boys
I was takin' off
and down and out and makin' time
With anything that comes my way
Staggered to the Greyhound station
L.A. means my destination
Put me on that dog, take
quarter
Get out away old Dan Tucker take your wine and take your daughter
Papa died just today a cold grey Mobile morning
Now here I stand all alone
the block, I bet I teach you niggas how to hustle
Sellin' coca on the charts, watch it double
Uh, taking meetings on bus, this shit my mobile office
Gettin'
Roll out the pain killers
We'll have a killer wig-out
Sleepy boys don't look, it's not in the gazette
Or a statistical occurrence
It's octopus
Straight to the moon we two
High in the starry blue
I'll be out of this world with you
So away we steal in a space-mobile
A supersonic honeymoon
With a swingin' little guitar man
Show 'em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean
Find yourself down around Mobile
Make it on out to a club
With a swingin' little guitar man
Show 'em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean
Find yourself down around Mobile
Make it on out to a club
With a swingin' little guitar man
Show 'em, son
If you ever take a trip down to the ocean
Find yourself down around Mobile
Make it on out to a club
and luck
So I bought me a ride down to Macon, Georgia
On a overloaded poultry truck
I thumbed on down to Panama City
Started pickin' out some o' them
In the heat of the day, down in mobile, alabama
Workin' on the railroad with a steel drivin' hammer
Tryin' to get some money, get some brand new
well.
And I would send a message
To find out if she's talked,
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked.
Oh, Mama, can this
In the heat of the day down in Mobile, Alabama
Working on the railroad with the steel driving hammer
Gotta make some money to buy some brand new
We all came out to Montreux
On the Lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn't have much time
But Frank Zappa and the Mothers
to the moon we two
High in the starry blue
I'll be out of this world with you
Sop away we'll steal in my space mobile
A supersonic honeymoon
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