Oklahoma-Texas Acid Test

Southern rock, industrial-folk, dark trap hip-hop

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[transition]

[singer B]
Loaded up the Bimmer, pointed south like I knew the way
Thought the mushrooms were fake, thought I’d wasted half the day
Then an hour and change in, doing numbers I won’t write,
The lane lines got chatty and the dashboard got polite
Paranoia knocking, trying to take the wheel,
So I hit the terp pen like a man trying not to feel

[transition]

[singer A]
Took a hit of weed...
...and my forehead unclenched!
Everything got jokes...
...even my own last breath!

[transition]

[singer B]
I’m doing 140, cracking up at the rental car squeak!
...all the dashboard lights look like they’re learning how to speak!
Every cop I pass is dressed like he lost a bet!
...badge on his chest like a laminated regret!
Public servants with a flashlight and a job to do!
While I’m trying not to laugh myself straight out of my shoes!
Yeah, I respect the badge, I really do—no joke—
But right now them boys look like they got dressed in the dark on the way to smoke!

[transition]

[singer A]
Passing squad cars parked out by the median stripe
Trying not to grin like a fool with a DUI type
They look like teenagers at a church camp forced into a suit
Badges on their chests like they’re playin’ cop for loot
I tell myself, “Keep it cool, don’t become a story,”
While the highway turns into some kind of petty glory
They got the guns and nightsticks, sure, and that’s a solid skill,
But I’m gliding past at 140 with my brain on cheap refill

[transition]

[singer B]
I would not call this a safe ride for beginners.
This is more of an advanced class in acting normal while the mile markers make fun of your face.
If a state trooper sees you and you see him and everybody keeps their cool, that is basically teamwork.
And honestly, the Bimmer was the most stable thing in the car.

[transition]

[singer A]
Crossing the state line... 140 and somehow still not a felony...

[singer B]
God bless Texas, and God bless whatever this terp pen is made of.

2186/7500

[singer A] Point A to point B got way harder when I left my water bottle in the kitchen and my knees started filing complaints. Also, I thought “acid test” was, like, a discount tire place. Maybe a Waffle House problem. Hold on. [transition] [singer B] Loaded up the Bimmer, pointed south like I knew the way Thought the mushrooms were fake, thought I’d wasted half the day Then an hour and change in, doing numbers I won’t write, The lane lines got chatty and the dashboard got polite Paranoia knocking, trying to take the wheel, So I hit the terp pen like a man trying not to feel [transition] [singer A] Took a hit of weed... ...and my forehead unclenched! Everything got jokes... ...even my own last breath! [transition] [singer B] I’m doing 140, cracking up at the rental car squeak! ...all the dashboard lights look like they’re learning how to speak! Every cop I pass is dressed like he lost a bet! ...badge on his chest like a laminated regret! Public servants with a flashlight and a job to do! While I’m trying not to laugh myself straight out of my shoes! Yeah, I respect the badge, I really do—no joke— But right now them boys look like they got dressed in the dark on the way to smoke! [transition] [singer A] Passing squad cars parked out by the median stripe Trying not to grin like a fool with a DUI type They look like teenagers at a church camp forced into a suit Badges on their chests like they’re playin’ cop for loot I tell myself, “Keep it cool, don’t become a story,” While the highway turns into some kind of petty glory They got the guns and nightsticks, sure, and that’s a solid skill, But I’m gliding past at 140 with my brain on cheap refill [transition] [singer B] I would not call this a safe ride for beginners. This is more of an advanced class in acting normal while the mile markers make fun of your face. If a state trooper sees you and you see him and everybody keeps their cool, that is basically teamwork. And honestly, the Bimmer was the most stable thing in the car. [transition] [singer A] Crossing the state line... 140 and somehow still not a felony... [singer B] God bless Texas, and God bless whatever this terp pen is made of.

0/500