It started on a bright morning, in 1997. I was in my SS Chevy y'all, on I-80, doing one eleven. Talking on my faulty phone, fresh new fit Maurice Malone. Burning some, feeling hella numb, Stupid Doo Doo Dumb off one-five-one. Honking at every girl that pass me, I'm hella nasty, boy I need chapstick.