California, Here I Come written by Joseph Meyer, Al Jolson and Buddy G. De Sylva jack was sittin poker faced with bullets backed with bitches neal hunched at the wheel puttin everyone in stiches braggin bout this nurse he screwed while drivin through nebraska and when she came she honked the horn and neal just barely missed a truck and then he asked her if she'd like to come like that to californy see a red head in a uniform will always get you horny with her hairnet and those white shoes and a name tag and a hat she drove like andy granatelli and knew how to fix a flat and jack was almost at the bottom of his md 2020 neal was yellin out the window tryin to buy some bennies from a lincoln full of mexicans whose left rear tire blowed and the sonsobitches prit near almost ran off the road
well the nurse had spilled the manoshevitz all up and down her dress then she lit the map on fire neal just had to guess should we try and find a bootleg route or a fillin station open the nurse was dumpin out her purse lookin for an envelope and jack was out of cigarettes we crossed the yellow line the gas pumps looked like tombstones from here felt lonelier than a parking lot when the last car pulls away and the moonlight dressed the double breasted foothills in the mirror weaving outa negligee and a black brassiere the mercury was runnin hot and almost out of gas just then florence nightingale dropped her drawers and stuck her fat ass half way out of the window with a wilson pickett tune and shouted get a load of this and gave the finger to the moon
countin one eyed jacks and whistling dixie in the car neal was doin least a hundred when we saw a fallin star florence wished that neal would hold her stead of chewin his cigar jack was noddin out and dreamin he was in a bar with charlie parker on the bandstand not a worry in the world and a glass of beer in one hand and his arm around a girl and neal was singin to the nurse underneath a harlem moon and somehow you could just tell we'd be in california soon