hands on the steering wheel memories of
riding cross country with this white girl could get me killed
1963 pregnant with our kid to be
tryna not let the stress and fear of death get to me
history is not fond of negroes that mix with blondes
left a small town with just the clothes that we had on
riding through these west virginia mountains headed due north
canada of course where mr. jim crowe was not enforced
smoking on this new port only got a quarter gas
if we don't pull over soon and get some sleep we'll surely crash
gas station up ahead now i feel relief and dread
once they see that we're together they will definitely want me dead
walked in with a bowed head asked the man to fill her up
who's that white gal in your truck?'
i said she was a hitchhiker looking for a ride home
poured us 38 and cocked it then he picked up his phone
first it was the sheriff then a couple deputies
then the came now my life's in jeopardy
i knew she'd be the death of me i guess it was our destiny
chocolate and vanilla makes a such a killer recipe
my dying wish was not for rescue but for telepathy
to let her know i loved her so she always saw the best in me
hope she don't regret the day we met she slept with me
our child would be a blessing testament our love was heavenly
now the noose connection tree right before my next night
i thought about my son living life in this death trap
born with the heart to love but without the right to choose
i hope he knows that god is love and really is the world is cruel
kid comes running out to see the hanking nigger spill his guts
father screamed that it's too late the niggers dead the jig is up