#robert beck

The sun didn't set/ when her cunt wasn't wet/ and her pockets were heavy with gold/ And many a trick/ with a weak-end dick/ got took for his entire roll/ Now a lay did play, off the dole she made/ from the coast to old broadway/ My game was strong/ 'cos my money was long/ I made this business pay/ But the trouble began/ when I ranked my hand/ and stopped blowing and started to hit/ Why Jim, you know/ I blew that dough/ faster than any one ho could get/ Then I blew my shack, my Cadillac/ the rug up off the floor/ I sold my ice/ at a pawn shop price/ and shot up all that dope