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You see, I started way back in the NYC when I stole my first rhyme on this M-I-C at West End Avenue at 63. It was the beginning of a leap year of February '96. Win a guitar, I picked it up in the mix. Well, I committed to the licks like a nickel bag of tricks and well uh, look at me now. But look at you now! And look at us now now now!

I'm just a curbside prophet, got my hand in my pocket, and I'm waitin' for my rocket to come. I'm just a curbside prophet got my hand in my pocket and I'm waitin' for my rocket, y'all.

Well then you'll never never guess where I've been been been. I have no regrets that I bet my whole checking account because it, it all amounts to nothing up in the end. But you can all account that "On the Road Again" will soon be on my radio dial and I'll be paying close attention to the dance hall style. Like a band of gypsy on a highway, wild, I'm a (wo)man wishing on a California skyline drive up the coast, I brag and I boast, I'm picking up the pace and making time like Space Ghost, raising a toast to the highway patrol with the most - but cruise control's on coast. And I'm touring 'round the nation on extended vacation and I got Robbie and Sly who exceeded my limitation. I say, "I like your style, crazy pound pups! You need a ride? Well come on y'all, get in the truck with the curbside prophet!"

Got my hand in my pocket and I'm waitin' for my rocket to come.

Hey, hey, somethin's different in my world today. Well they changed my traffic sign to a brighter yellow.

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