Текст песни: Way Out + перевод

Cinnamon seats, dashboard flakes, yeah, sprayed out

Drunk as a fool, throwing that Jimmy back until I’m laid out

Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit, I’m talking way out

Dude, I’m way out — I’m talking way out

Rolling country side anywhere that I go, hey now

Drunk on 'Quake, cops pulling off they telling me «turn it way down»

Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit, I’m talking way out

Dude, I’m way out — I’m talking way out

Yeah — intergalactic, out of my mind and into traffic

In the pepper Converse tryna climb out

And risk it with nothing in my backpack

It’s me: a son of a bitch, a child of a prick

A stepson you don’t wanna hit

Ooo wee, no, not him — not Lil Wayne, Michael Wayans

Who you thought it was, B?

Damn right, and I’m on a tightrope

Screaming out «die bitch», fuck my life

I ain’t never give a fuck, I could never give a fuck now

So put the chain on my bike, yeah

Put that bitch back on the spot, give me the pistol before you cock it

Let me throw a bullet in the clip for luck for us

Poor us, yeah, popping these, shocking, ain’t it mane?

Well, I guess nobody wants to be broke, right? Black or white

Paint the frame

'Cause I’m only used to refusing the stereotypes of a name

I ain’t a name — I’m a soul, I’m a piece of gold

I’m a pro, I’m a piece of shit too, too

What I gotta do if I gotta roll? Guess what?

I’mma roll all over you when I’m riding

Used to watch my beeper chirp, new Dickies and a Black (?) shirt

My world was a little bitty spot in the universe outside of Earth

Tennessee loud, Alabama born, I came down in a meteor storm

Media wrong, media right, righting my wrong, lean to get long

Don’t come to get this, children go — this building is about to blow

I don’t know what I’mma do with this feeling inside of my mind and soul

I’m a one-in-a-million human show

Shoulda been the motherfucking Truman Show

But if you seen me getting raped as a child

You probably wouldn’t give me room to grow

Heavy blow, take a heavy sigh

Like a runner on the dailies, high oh my

You’ll be good, baby boy, don’t cry

I can make a boat with the broke up rhymes

God made me the Cherokee like no

I can’t let the world off the hook this time

And if you didn’t want this catfish shit

In fact, you should’ve never shook that line

Readied that hook, took this time, to press play, then rewind

I would rather be drunk than be blind

To the space age pimp shit that I combine

With what I know, rock and roll, I’m so famous, country fresh

That I can’t take one step in the fuckin' street when I’m in public

So I get in this

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