Lyrics
I have a razor edge problem, it won't let me fucking go
Scrape me off a piece and shove it up my nose
Red and blue sirens in my rearview mirror
I need a few minutes so I can think clearer
Park on the corner and scrape me off a line
I'm going on a joy ride
I hate the cops, they're always after me
They say a driver driving high is a driver driving recklessly
Holy shit, I'm almost dry
But it's a nice day for a Sunday Drive
Park on the corner and scrape me up a line
Then I'm back on the gas at last
I'm going on a joy ride!
I'm going down south to live down in Mexico
I tell the cops to leave me be, but the cops, no they don't hear me though
Thirty-four miles
I'm almost free
With LA's finest
They're all chasing after me
But they don't stand a chance and neither do I
They're never going to catch me alive
I'm going on a joy ride