[00:30.66]C'mon, ma, can I borrow the keys?
[00:33.30]My generation is car-pooling with doom and disease
[00:36.93]Buckle up, skipper--the New American Asterix
[00:39.69]You're riding shotty with Jesus of Nascar-eth
[00:42.81]At the end of the day, we all sittin' on twenty-fours
[00:45.42]Three hundred and sixty five horses, no horse shit
[00:48.57]With nothing but a learning permit
[00:50.67]Delinquents on the autobahn poppin' our airbags off, worthless
[00:54.84]I'm not depressed, man, I'm just a ****ing New Yorker
[00:57.21]Who knows that sittin' in traffic with these bastards is torture
[01:00.84]I'll be in a jalopy with a mami getting head rest
[01:03.42]And howl at the glowing moon roof as proof that I'm not dead yet
[01:06.78]And y'all can all give me a hummer (suck it)
[01:08.85]'Cause in the meantime, I'ma pimp this ride like fly formula one-er
[01:12.72]This is the El-Product summer
[01:14.79]With a gleam of factory gun metal sheen grey and no vin number
[01:21.18](Chorus)
[01:21.33]Drive, Drive, Drive
[01:21.69]Hopped in the hooptie screaming "freedom is mine!"
[01:24.03]Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
[01:24.51]Bumpin' the tune I so conveniently provide
[01:29.76]Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
[01:33.63]Don't have to be flashy, I'll use any old ride
[01:35.40]Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
[01:35.88]Hop in the whip and peel away, stay alive
[01:43.44]Cars drive by with the booming system
[01:45.39]Like New York is Fallujah with metal gear using Christians
[01:48.99]Posted up for the gods of oil mining
[01:51.30]In a military humvee with no bullet proof siding (sorry, guys)
[01:54.87]Brooklyn, baby, I'm waterlocked walkin' nervous
[01:57.24]When the curfew was imposed closing transportational service
[02:00.72]This gonzo-matic fear turns me Hunter S. Thompson
[02:03.27]With my lawyer leaning over the side view mirror vomiting
[02:06.69]You call 'em windows, I call 'em a*******estos lesseners
[02:09.33]For this wheezing in my chest I'll need more than ****ing air fresheners
[02:12.69]There ain't no easy pass, hands on the dash
[02:15.15]You'll get rocked in ca*******ah if you're moving too fast
[02:17.67]Here come the cannon ****ers, run--get in your gremlin
[02:21.36]The days of thunder's creepin' up sooner than you expected
[02:24.69]Paranoid brethren disable their OnStar knowing they'll trace us
[02:28.08]Pull us over and shout "get out le car!"
[02:41.52](Chorus)
[02:54.69]These TV thugs got the heart of Herbie the Luv Bug
[02:57.57]It don't take a speed racing mind to see that they're just thugs
[03:00.78]I'll wrap your promo truck with a NAMBLA stencil
[03:03.33]To prove that you're ****ing babies, frontin' up in a rental
[03:06.84]I knew a kid who navigated a slippery
[03:09.12]And fuel injected a speed ball on hs way to Atlantic City
[03:12.93]Out the race before even making his mark
[03:15.18]And now he'll never pick his shit up out of long term parking
[03:18.66]My triple A card has one too many initials
[03:21.39]And autobot on the fringe of liquid addiction spinning fish-tails
[03:24.87]About to careen on some Toonces shit off the cliff (Toonces, no!)
[03:27.51]But love of the sport of racing is keeping me out of coffins
[03:30.39]Camu was like "**** it, just keep the beats dirty dusty"
[03:33.30]I grabbed the CB radio like "ten-four, good buddy"
[03:36.72]I'll keep running the track, even when muddy
[03:39.12]'Cause my insurance don't cover leaving behind the pit crew that love me
[03:52.62]So I drive
[03:53.58](Chorus)

C'mon, ma, can I borrow the keys?
My generation is car-pooling with doom and disease
Buckle up, skipper--the New American Asterix
You're riding shotty with Jesus of Nascar-eth
At the end of the day, we all sittin' on twenty-fours
Three hundred and sixty five horses, no horse shit
With nothing but a learning permit
Delinquents on the autobahn poppin' our airbags off, worthless
I'm not depressed, man, I'm just a ****ing New Yorker
Who knows that sittin' in traffic with these bastards is torture
I'll be in a jalopy with a mami getting head rest
And howl at the glowing moon roof as proof that I'm not dead yet
And y'all can all give me a hummer (suck it)
'Cause in the meantime, I'ma pimp this ride like fly formula one-er
This is the El-Product summer
With a gleam of factory gun metal sheen grey and no vin number
(Chorus)
Drive, Drive, Drive
Hopped in the hooptie screaming "freedom is mine!"
Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
Bumpin' the tune I so conveniently provide
Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
Don't have to be flashy, I'll use any old ride
Drive, Drive, Drive, Drive
Hop in the whip and peel away, stay alive
Cars drive by with the booming system
Like New York is Fallujah with metal gear using Christians
Posted up for the gods of oil mining
In a military humvee with no bullet proof siding (sorry, guys)
Brooklyn, baby, I'm waterlocked walkin' nervous
When the curfew was imposed closing transportational service
This gonzo-matic fear turns me Hunter S. Thompson
With my lawyer leaning over the side view mirror vomiting
You call 'em windows, I call 'em a*******estos lesseners
For this wheezing in my chest I'll need more than ****ing air fresheners
There ain't no easy pass, hands on the dash
You'll get rocked in ca*******ah if you're moving too fast
Here come the cannon ****ers, run--get in your gremlin
The days of thunder's creepin' up sooner than you expected
Paranoid brethren disable their OnStar knowing they'll trace us
Pull us over and shout "get out le car!"
(Chorus)
These TV thugs got the heart of Herbie the Luv Bug
It don't take a speed racing mind to see that they're just thugs
I'll wrap your promo truck with a NAMBLA stencil
To prove that you're ****ing babies, frontin' up in a rental
I knew a kid who navigated a slippery
And fuel injected a speed ball on hs way to Atlantic City
Out the race before even making his mark
And now he'll never pick his shit up out of long term parking
My triple A card has one too many initials
And autobot on the fringe of liquid addiction spinning fish-tails
About to careen on some Toonces shit off the cliff (Toonces, no!)
But love of the sport of racing is keeping me out of coffins
Camu was like "**** it, just keep the beats dirty dusty"
I grabbed the CB radio like "ten-four, good buddy"
I'll keep running the track, even when muddy
'Cause my insurance don't cover leaving behind the pit crew that love me
So I drive
(Chorus)