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,
Stuck in the back, the good life surrounds me
Could tie my right hand man, and put him some place,
Then Id ditch the truck, and buy a new face
Everyday I think of money,
Everyday I think of something
It cant buy you love, cant give you 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 it carries convicts,
My hands are bound to the seat by handcuffs,
Tomorrow, Ill maybe walk around the yard,
Or paint in my cell, and hate imprisonment
Everyday I think of money,
Everyday I miss my family