Burpin’ our way to New Mexico

I got a call from my boy Tom
He said he's got a show lined up
For us to play down at The Old Gold Mine
I asked for three g's and he laughed
And offered $300 with an open bar
And I said, "Hell Tom, that sounds fine"
So we loaded up the bus
With booze and drums, guitars and amps
Two ounces of my lady mary jane
Some beef jerky and chips, and clothes
Smokes and music for the road
And pills to help us deal with the pain

Pedal to the metal
While we're chain smoking our cigarettes
We got two hours left to make it to the show
Shootin' Jagermeister
Chasе it down with a Budweiser
And we'rе burpin' our way to New Mexico

Moe is huffin' whip its
And his face is turning blue
Mr. Gurthman's nursing on his Jameson
Half the cars around us
Are full of The Weasel Crew
Who knew that driving drunk could be this much fun
Rolled into Albuquerque
As we polished off beef jerky
Won't somebody tell me where the hell to go?
Someone grab the map
Or we might miss our exit
And I don't want to be too late for the show

Pedal to the metal
While we're chain smoking our cigarettes
We got ten minutes left to make it to the show
Shootin' Jagermeister
Chase it down with a Budweiser
And we're burpin' our way to New Mexico

Driving nice and easy
Cuz we're feeling kind of queasy
Moe's head is dangling outside of the window
"Tad, please pull over
Cuz I think I'm gonna yak"!
And we're puking up our guts on the way home