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 I'd ditch the truck, and buy a new face

Everyday I think of money
Everyday I think of something

It can't buy you love, can't 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, I'll maybe walk around the yard
Or paint in my cell, and hate imprisonment
Everyday I think of money
Everyday I miss my family