i wanna go home
to the sweet country pie
burning in the oven and
the corn on the cob
rolling next to some sizzling dogs.

we ain't got not problem
with the summer heat
as we bounce down the street
trying to get down to grub
at momma's spot.

if you know how i feel inside
when i taste some of that meat
it might be how your head bounces
as you listen to my beat.
the beer satisfies and the women
amplify the joys and pains of the
melted ice cream
hitting that street.

we ain't got no gripes and we
ain't got no time
we just listen to the jams
streaming from my hands
with my ibanez on deck and
the vocals in the back;
we kick it old school style
and watch the light turn black.

07/03/2005

Posted on 07/04/2005
Copyright © 2025 Uriel Tovar