Lyrics:
from the States" But in just minutes, he says, "Go," convinced By our debut acting performance My odo-me-ter hits back to zero I'm a re-gu-lar dirt road
I'm finger licking good, I know you girl got me like dat Foot on the gas odometer having a heart attack Going for mine you know that I need me a couple
We've got to get ourselves back together Comes as you are Yea Yea Now everybody say a prayer for Turkey and Paris Wish I could turn back the odometer
the odometer over 'cause we cLL die to young." She said, "now, when I was young, I was a Cadillac, Now it's four-on-the floor of my drug-den. I came to know
a gyalis She waan be mi baby mammi 1badniss we rich Always have it pon we Yo big rich VERSE2: She love Msport X6 bimmer 280 pon the odometer Dash-board full
across that yellow line I swear I'm gonna lose my shit If I see one more mile of pavement The odometer keeps on counting up the minutes keep on counting
to the Greater Good (Open rhythms) Drive (Open rhythms) Hit the high road Baby, hit the high notes (Open rhythms) Drive Drive Up in the odometer Down in
My mind be crowded Like an odometer high on the mileage Rollin' up something might take you to college I'm talkin' high but not taking no mollies
We're too late, we're too late Release the rigging No one uses the phone anymore The tracks are wrecked and the odometer's ticking The edge is
think I'm gunnin for the big time Sometimes I think I'm runnin out of time And that big odometer in the sky turned over That big odometer in the sky just
spot them, and they got em, they ain't shit dawg (ain't on shit dawg) Nigga check my mileage, the odometer say Big dawg (the odometer say big dawg) Nigga
the gold tooth display Check out the odometer and I was on my way 'Cause I'm the high plains drifter the best that you can get A strapped shoplifter
the gold tooth display Check out the odometer and I was on my way 'Cause I'm the high plains drifter the best that you can get A strapped shoplifter
Running down the highway half past eleven Waitin' for my odometer to roll straight sevens I'm a lucky man I went to see the gypsy the other night
on my odometer I don't trick I pimp I give no gift but stick even on Hanukkah She ask if I'm faithful, I say, "I promise ya" If I cheat I'm triple timing
on my odometer I don't trick I pimp I give no gift but stick even on Hanukkah She ask if I'm faithful, I say, "I promise ya" If I cheat I'm triple timing
and listen to science Odometers sparkling, glisten off me We ball until they call police and they tryna report me We washin' all his brand like a nigga
to keep up With their grandma outside, on the side Maybe their steel belted radials expired, maybe they're tired Maybe their odometer needs to be rewired
waking with the best of routine caffiene team players For the cycle of it Under a dusted angel heartstring Big Brother is watching My odometer like
on itself Admirers, your biographer The odometer There's no way to turn back the clock It's gonna to run 'til it stops So excited to play Turned up
showers and the Brazilian wax Cash in the glove department, freeze from tax Low mileage, on the odometer A graduate, with more degrees than a thermometer
Thanking the fates that brought me here He plays the glass harmonica And talks of wind and kites Of lightening and odometers And other strange delights
Maybe they're tired Maybe their odometer needs to be rewired Or something Fucking asshole! - My bad. Can you believe some of the drivers they let
odometer is on the bottom of all the numbers like you dial star pound Or put the car around white walls, call 'em Fire marshals to come and shut the party
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