[Slug]
Never run of the mill when I shoot the pill
I'm a son of a spill, I've got boots to fill

Showed up with a deuce-deuce of swill
And a guardian angel on my Coupe de Ville
Shark in the lake, heart strike the drum

Mark landscape with a dart-like tongue
Spit my blood from deep in the gut
Smoking cigarette butts with my fingerless gloves

Pull over at the welcome sign
And raise a toast to those that fell behind
Everybody else got a crippled spine

From tryna take it back to a simple time
Keep a little pine tree, hang from my rearview
Beats turned up just enough not to hear you

Gonna swim till the fins get torn
I shall return, keep the engine warm


[Chorus]
Millennium Dodo
Pull out your telephone and take you a photo

You didn't know? Better read the logo
You don't wanna play around and get ocho
Recline like I don't care

The world is mine and I ain't gon' share
Now everybody blow smoke in the air
I keep my eyes on the road, but I know that you stare


[Slug]
Now I was at the party sleeping on the couch

When I decided to grab a bottle of something and bounce
I'd rather be by myself
Than have to navigate another fake cry for help

On the beaten path with a bandaged fist
To represent the last half of the damn I give
Play me in slow-mo', fly like a blimp

Millennium Dodo, drive with a limp
Windows down, heater blasting
Got my coffee but I need some aspirin

Watch me merge into speeding traffic
With the truck-stop plastic, cheap sunglasses
Show respect

You broke down on the side of the road, wanna choke my neck
I've got a glovebox full of stolen checks
And I drink moonshine that the chrome reflects


[Chorus]


[Slug]
Flannel, look like a farmer
Underneath camo, look like a hunter

With that ski mask, look like a robber
Sleeping in the barn with the doctor's daughter
Got stories to wax, pour me a glass

I run with the ghosts of warriors past
South side, call it pop life
Y'all catch frostbite waiting at a stoplight

All over the map we get festive
It's a matter of class
You can tell by my lack of attractive skeptics

You just mad at my moustache
Hey girl, we'll always have Memphis
But right now, I want breakfast

With the pedal to the metal till we hit West Texas
Then cross to Mexico to see my dentist


[Chorus]