Hip hop has blown my mindnJohn Cash has done his timenWhen you and I were in the weeds drinking winenI loved your soul and I loved your mindnBut I miss those hip hop thightsnCold cocked by Patsy KlinenAt an all night police bar one timenFrom guns on a roof to the acid jazznTo the reels and the rhyms of that gaelic trashnDancin with the next lead singer of The ClashnGuns on the bar and his hands on your american assnnHip-hop tore up his mindnThought he was dancin with Patsy KlinenNow the local girl off the police linenCheek to cheek and that 3/4 timenTryin to make lemonade from limesnBut no lime he ever made nothing like I walk the linennJohn Cash has done his timenHip-hop has blown my mindnI miss the lies and the weeds and winenAnd the bump and grinds and your queasy smilenand the prize that lies between your hip-hop thighsnyour hip-hop thighsx4