In Her Music Box

She had a bad dream in the back seat The same one as yesterday, the same one as last week Surrounded by her favorite favorites Elmo, Barbie, her purple baby blanket And that little Matchbox, looks just like Dad's car Its fast on the leather, pretends its nascar It jumps over Elmo cause it can fly that far With Daddy in the front seat talking like a rap star And girl, oh girl, Daddy's the greatest He knows the words to everything on the radio play list He fakes the accent, even makes all the faces And when he raises his voice it makes her feel like he's famous Yeah Papa got his lean on Weavin down Lake Street tryin to get his scene on Stoppin the whip to say something out the window Bobbin his head to the beat on the radio Good Daddy wont smoke no weed Until the bass cradles her back to sleep But he can steak his mack while she takes a nap To the sweet pretty sounds of the gangsta rap The high hats are angles' voices They keep her distracted from the strangers' voices Escape is a paradox Because the childhood is locked in that music box Daddys drive around, Mommys work night shift Sweet dreams, sleep little precious Lay down in that music box Escape in the sound of Daddys drive around, Mommys work night shift Sweet dreams, sleep little precious Lay down in that music box Escape in the sound of that music box Yeah, Daddy knows people, he's important The guy with the suit and tie they see at the court And it seems like he ain't tryin to talk to police But at the car wash they treat him like the star that she sees They like Poppa's big wheels And the lollipop she gets makes her feel like a big deal Not allowed to have it yet, gotta sit still Like the toy that she knows is gonna come with the kids meal She loves drive-thru food Health conscious Dad, he buys her the juice A little sip of soda builds the pride Go ahead baby-girl don't spill those fries Nu-uh, Papa cant roll a messy office Compulsive in the way she lay them napkins all across the seat Never puts her feet up on the upholstery Just kicks em side to side to the beat on the radio She sings along like Dad does She knows all the words but she leaves out the bad ones Except "bitch" she always sings the word "bitch" Cause it makes her daddy laugh, its her magic trick And when Daddy picks Mommy up they fight They fight about money, they fight about life So she concentrates oh so hard on the music And loses herself inside of the bass and the movement Daddys drive around, Mommys work night shift Sweet dreams, sleep little precious Lay down in that music box Escape in the sound of Daddys drive around, Mommys work night shift Sweet dreams, sleep little precious Lay down in that music box Escape in the sound of that music box Turn that Buick off