I drive a truck, it carries money  And everyday, I dream up my fantasies  Yesterday, I bought my beach house  A little place just off the coast of France  Everyday, I think of money  Everyday, I think of running    I love my truck, I love my family  Stacked in the back, the good life surrounds me  Could tie my right hand man  And put him some place  Then I'd ditch the truck  And buy a new face  Everyday, I think of money  Everyday, I think of someway    It can't buy you love  It can't give you a soul  Can pick you up  Can down you low   Can drag you out, of the hole  You dug  Yourself   Out of ... again    Sat in a truck, it carries convicts  My hands are bound, to the seat by handcuffs  Tomorrow, I'll maybe walk around the yard  Or paint in my cell, and hate imprisonment  Everyday I think of money  Everyday I miss my family