Pistol (A. Cunanan, Miami, FL. 1996)

I’ve got my pistol in the car, uh huh
I’ve got my stereo in the car, uh huh
I’ve got my room key in the car, uh huh
Why don’t you come to my room
And clean my pistol no duh
I maximize my only liaisons
I’m gonna take it till the taking comes on
I’ve got my cocaine in my glove box now
The sun roof is down, oh wow
I’ve got my room key in my pocket and you know
I’ve got a pistol that I need to unload
I’m gonna T-T-T-T-T-T-Take you on up (You say «What?»)
I’m gonna t-t-t-t-take your shirt right on off
I’m gonna zip-zip-zip-zip-zip-za-za-za-zip your pants on down
I’m gonna sip sip sip sip sip from my royal royal, royal crown
And we go Wooh
I’ve got a backpack with some clothes that
I could wear to work tomorrow they won’t know
Oh-oh-oh- uh oh
That I was up all night not ready for the meeting, oh no — oh oh
Got a wallet in my backpack and I
think it’s mine but I don’t care, you know
Got my backpack with the money got
myself a passport I should probably go
And we go Wooh