101

Well 21's a number, makes a betting man's fingers itch
Pull on back the bolt, better hope that trigger finger don't twitch
A man's been left on the side of the road, his pockets full of Jacks
The rearview glows with red and blue, and that's when I hit the gas

Oh we're flying up the 101
Flying up the 101
Flyin'

God's more afraid of us then we ever were of him
Walking barefoot through the sodom land wearing nothing but a grin
Break out the booze, kick off your shoes, get down to the mortal sin
There ain't no room left in this world for no god-fearing man

Yeah we're flying up the 101
Flying up the 101
Flying up the 101

Time's up, your tale is told
Gone to where the gringos go to grow green gold
If your whole life fits inside of a matchbox
Or if you got stacks stackin' up in a stash box
Everybody's runnin' though some are standing still
But when your turn comes don't you turn to run
You just fire at your will

And we're flying up the 101
Flying up the 101
Flying up the 101

Flying up the 101
Flying up the 101
Oh, flying up the 101



Credits
Writer(s): Connor Dean Herdt, Michael Marcel Seban
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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