I drive a truck It carries money And Everday I dream up my fantasies Yesterday, I bought my beach house A little place just off the coast of France Everyday, I think of money Everyday, I think of running I love my truck, I love my family Stacked in the back, the good life surrounds me Could tie my right hand man And put him some place Then I'd ditch the truck And buy a new face Everyday, I think of money Everyday, I think of someway It can't buy you love It can't give you a soul Can pick you up Can down you low Can drag you out, of the hole You dug Yourself Out of ... again Sat in a truck, it carries convicts My hands are bound, to the seat by handcuffs Tomorrow, I'll maybe walk around the yard Or paint in my cell, and hate imprisonment Everyday I think of money Everyday I miss my family
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