Hip hop has blown my mind   John Cash has done his time   When you and I were in the weeds drinking wine   I loved your soul and I loved your mind   But I miss those hip hop thights   Cold cocked by Patsy Kline   At an all night police bar one time   From guns on a roof to the acid jazz   To the reels and the rhyms of that gaelic trash   Dancin with the next lead singer of The Clash   Guns on the bar and his hands on your american ass      Hip-hop tore up his mind   Thought he was dancin with Patsy Kline   Now the local girl off the police line   Cheek to cheek and that 3/4 time   Tryin to make lemonade from limes   But no lime he ever made nothing like I walk the line      John Cash has done his time   Hip-hop has blown my mind   I miss the lies and the weeds and wine   And the bump and grinds and your queasy smile   and the prize that lies between your hip-hop thighs   your hip-hop thighsx4