(Lyrics: J. Harte, Music: B. Walker)
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Well I’m a shake city hing in a stretch limousine.
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Suckin’ cheap suds from a can,
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Wearin’ torn out jeans and tearin’ worn out seams.
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Lookin’ sleazy but don’t give a damn.
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Raising hell like no one else,
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Like no rich city slicker could.
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Got the nasty reputation that the bad girls like.
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And my bank books lookin’ good cus I’m…
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White trash with cash, rollin’ in the dough,
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And I’m burnin’ it fast.
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White trash with cash, got the fuel for the fire,
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And there’s no time to spare.
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High societies worst nightmare.
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Beverly Hills bash, well I think I’ll pass.
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Let me tell ya where I’d rather be.
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Dancin’ with the devil, out all night with the boys.
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Another round around on me.
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Not respected, been rejected all the way up the line.
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But that never slowed a poor boy down.
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Laughin’ last, laughin’ hardest, laughin’ all of the time,
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At the people when they hear the sound.
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(Chorus)
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I got enough to make it last, got a full tank of gas.
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Gotta lot of money, but I got no class.
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Livin’ like I’m crazy cus’ I’m just…
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(Chorus)
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White Trash With Cash
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| Marvelous 3 |
