Lyrics:
The Fifth Dimension, Creedence Clearwater
Oh, brother Hendrix, sister Joplin, we wish you were here
Early in the mornin' Johnny Cash and old Elvis got loose
spaceship lunch box in a bathtub full of Lego.
And I didn't believe you when somebody said that he fled with Jimi Hendrix to a UFO type Basecamp up on Machu
eighteen, I went to Hollywood
I met Elvis, Marilyn and Johnny B. Goode
Got my guitar painted in the California Sun
A red Cadillac having to much fun
Now we
adventurous
takin like ten dicks right in your appendix
What bout my Jimi Hendrix?
It's my press kit, dead sick
Fuckin a chick with an asbestos covered
What's her name? It's Nicole Brown Simpson
Prince and Jimi Hendrix playing
Solos in the distance
For Adam, yo, and I'm not even a Christian
Let's talk
Kind of a mixture of Jimi hendrix Rock the shit with ink on the page Flying high zeppelin Weighing down The levi breaks
Described the rhymes
summer 1999
I just dropped off a friend of mine
In the old car that I have but I do not own
And there’s a song called “Drifting”
By Jimi Hendrix on my
Jimi Hendrix, that nigga rock CC
Okay oh, you ain't fuckin' know?
(Yes sir) Are you off Adderall?
What the fuck we doing
Brodie whippin' hella bows (Go,
dope fiend
How they gonna judge me, they don't even know me
Lights off, want to be left alone, I'm tryin to enjoy the methodone
Put a Jimi Hendrix
a Jimi Hendrix record on, and excuse me while I kiss the sky
Dosed off, woke up, sick to my stomach, ran to the bathroom
Started to vomit, the methodone
the ??
So relentless, we sneakin, and creepin and keepin it off the hinges
Bullys wit Fullys pullin strings like Jimi Hendrix
Fuck a trick biotchh, when
Left Brain rocks, Jimi Hendrix rocks
Michael Jackson rocks, Santana rocks
Di Meola rocks, Quasimoto rocks
OutKast rocks, Snoop Dogg rocks
The whole
it might be cinematic
The stardust settled on my boater, missed my jacket
On Mars I'm lit up by a followspot, I'm bugging, yeah
Red and blues, red
to it
I know some hoes be trippin' on the low, I'm too used to it
Really got it by my lonely, they refusin' it
Remember when they want me dead, back
chart-baiting piece of crap, packet of gore
And I know little Johnny’ salary is high as hell (At least a million)
But I can rip-off Hendrix’ licks just as well
I
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