Have a drink on me So don't worry about tomorrow Take it today Forget about the check We'll get hell to pay Have a drink on me (on me) Whiskey, gin and brandy With a glass I'm pretty handy I'm trying to walk a straight line

I'd like to walk you through a field of wildflowers And I'd like to check you for ticks 'Cause I'd like to see you out in the moonlight I'd like to kiss you way back in the sticks Every time you take a sip In this smoky atmosphere You press that bottle

I'd like to walk you through a field of wildflowers And I'd like to check you for ticks 'Cause I'd like to see you out in the moonlight I'd like to kiss you way back in the sticks Every time you take a sip In this smoky atmosphere You press that bottle

Stepping out to Angellucci's for my coffee beans Checking out the movies and the magazines Waitress she watches me crossing from the Barocco Bar I'm getting a pickup for my steel guitar I saw you walking out Shaftesbury Avenue Excuse me for talking I

(Hey, hey) don't give a damn what people say (Hey, hey) save it for another day (Hey, hey) you gonna talk the talk then walk this way (Hey, hey) or save it for another day Check, check mic check one, two It's about that time This the year we take shit

Find out what she's puttin' down I won't even call I won't even write I'm checking on my baby So many nights and days Well, I've been out of town Well, I caught me a plane Flew back that same night Checking on my baby

I know perfect timing feels like I'm too late Check me out And I know I'm still great in spite of my mistakes You know it's authentic, every rhyme I say My only regret is I made niggas wait See, ain't too many like us, we like vintage Bape And I don't

South-side motherfuckers? Laced Up! Fuck check-out time, we don't wake up Damn these EST boy's done came up Dirty ass Chucks and a bad bitch lace up Where my east-side motherfuckers? Laced Up! Where my west-side motherfuckers? Laced Up! Where my

Weekends here, good God almighty, Yeah, yeah, yeah... But we just punched out and its paycheck Friday, Yeah the big boss man, he likes to crack that whip I ain't nothing but a number on his time card slip, I give him forty hours and a piece of my soul,

He drank ole poison whiskey 'Til it killed him dead. Daddy was a Cajun, raised on Southern land And so my kinfolks tell me, was a street-fightin' man. Well, they rushed him down to see the doctor "Hey doctor, won't you check his head?" The only thing