His name was “Big D,”
He was smoking too much crack,
He'd fall over.
And one time,
He’d land upon his back.
He got so high,
He was flyin in the sky,
Like a big kyte.
To wired for sleep,
No girl would love him,
Not even the sheep,
Hiding in his back yard.
can't we work it out
can't we put him in rehad
it can all be better
please big d
will do anything
smokin too much crack
late night in his bed
he'd be so crazy
late at night
he couldn't find his head
his life was so dang rough
and he wasn't all that tough
he couldn't hold down a job
his bosses didn't like him enough
finally he got shot
trying to buy some crack
he said he'd be alright
now he's on his back
six feet under
We could of worked it out
we could of put him in rehab
it could have been all better
we said we'll do anything
