Album: Group Therapy

White Trash With Cash

(Lyrics: J. Harte, Music: B. Walker)
Well I¡¯m a shake city hing in a stretch limousine.
Suckin¡¯ cheap suds from a can,
Wearin¡¯ torn out jeans and tearin¡¯ worn out seams.
Lookin¡¯ sleazy but don¡¯t give a damn.
Raising hell like no one else,
Like no rich city slicker could.
Got the nasty reputation that the bad girls like.
And my bank books lookin¡¯ good cus I¡¯m¡­
White trash with cash, rollin¡¯ in the dough,
And I¡¯m burnin¡¯ it fast.
White trash with cash, got the fuel for the fire,
And there¡¯s no time to spare.
High societies worst nightmare.
Beverly Hills bash, well I think I¡¯ll pass.
Let me tell ya where I¡¯d rather be.
Dancin¡¯ with the devil, out all night with the boys.
Another round around on me.
Not respected, been rejected all the way up the line.
But that never slowed a poor boy down.
Laughin¡¯ last, laughin¡¯ hardest, laughin¡¯ all of the time,
At the people when they hear the sound.
(Chorus)
I got enough to make it last, got a full tank of gas.
Gotta lot of money, but I got no class.
Livin¡¯ like I¡¯m crazy cus¡¯ I¡¯m just¡­
(Chorus)