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
  Stacked 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 someway
    It can't buy you love
  It can't give you a 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 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