Featured In
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Bradley Robert Petering
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
George Clanton
Songwriter
Bradley Robert Petering
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
George Clanton
Producer
Bradley Robert Petering
Producer
Lyrics
Yo, I used to be in love with this chick Elaine
I know why, because the bitch had the best cocaine
But she couldn't tell me nothing 'cause Elaine was fly
And to me, oh my God, how she got me high
But I should've knew the consequences right from the jump
That she'd use me for my money and then play me for a chump
But like a fool on drugs, I fell for her game
But yo, I got high every time she came
I called Honey Dip and said, "Yo, baby, please
You gotta hook it up, it's been a hell of a week
Bring the E plus the K plus the whole fuckin' alphabet
Better play it safe, bring a whole fuckin' ounce of it"
Shorty came through and she was lookin' kinda fine
Laced her with some dough and she gave me a dime
She said she had a sale for a limited time
For an extra hundred bucks, she would blow my mind
Could I be good?
Don't you think it's time to go home?
(Could I be your girl from a different place?)
Could I be good?
I'm not sure, oh, yo, yo
So I gave her the bill and she got down on her knees
She slipped me a pill and then she put me at ease
We did a little of this plus a little of that
And when the blow got low, she let me lick the bag
That's when shorty popped a question
Said she had some shit that she copped from a dentist
Took out the violin, she poured it on her tits
Come on, baby girl, why don't you give it a sniff?
Pretty soon I was feelin' kinda dumb
When my vision went blurry and my legs went numb
Yo, I couldn't move but my eyes could see
Shorty went through my pockets for a couple of Gs
Plus the link, plus the keys to the Tahoe
Slid down the door with the mink and the Picasso
Couldn't be mad, shorty robbed me clean
Guess, I guess it's what you get when you're livin' like a fiend
By the way, dear, I'm just a little low
Oh, sure, here, take twenty
No, not that much, can't hear you
No, no, know yourself, I insist
Could I be good?
Don't you think it's time to go home?
Go home, go home, go home
Could I be good?
Don't you own your own
(Cane Rock, baby)
(Cane, Cane Rock)
(Cane, Cane, Cane, Cane)
(Cane Rock, baby)
Written by: Bradley Robert Petering, George Clanton