Big man, big hands Strong back, strong mind Golden glove, at 16 Good looking like Steve McQueen I'm dumb, He's mad I push to fight He says, "Let's go" I said, "All right" Hey, I said, "Okay"
Yeah, Poppa bought a pick-up truck With bottle tops and that's enough A beat up piece of Chevrolet Blue and white rustin' away Aww, still we ride Yeah, just father and son
Small child, front seat Mouth in dad's ear As they drive that truck In the night, in the night Looking up at the night Through dark windshields Buster Browns won't reach I ask to drive And he says, "Okay"
Well, Papa bought a pick up truck With bottle tops and that's enough A beat up piece of Chevrolet Blue and white rustin' away Aw, still we ride Yeah, just father and son
Cool Hand says, "I'm a man who can eat fifty eggs" And, "Sayin' it's your job, don't make it, make it right" We laugh, we cry We say, "That's right" He says, "Let's drive" We say, "All right" Yeah, we said, "Okay"
Papa says, "Let's go for a ride" "Oh, We'll grab a bite to eat" "Hell boy, might even let you drive" I said, "Hey pop, oh, turn up the radio" "Aw, 'cause that's my favorite song" "Hey, that's my favorite song" As we went along Oh, roll down your window As we went along Yeah, just father and son Hey, just like we were Yeah, a father and son Hey Papa, "Dairy Queen sounds good to me" And Papa, "Pull off here, I've got to take a leak" And Papa, "You're gonna have to kill me, to keep me down" And Papa, you laugh when I say, "Move it up here, Dragline" Oh, DraglineTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
