Look Ma, No Hands

[Verse One] Now I wasn't a gimp when I was just a small tyke And like most boys I had one of them small bikes Foam pad on the bar that said "BMX" So you wouldn't lose no teeth but I damn near broke my neck Attempted to ride no hands with no crash Often meant rip sweatpants and road rash So I gave up trying until that fine summer afternoon in '99 When a good friend of mine outlined to me his perception Of the secret of biking without handlebars An idea was hatched, conception I was brewing up something like a samabar It was all about pace and maintaining rhythm It wasn't long before I could keep up with him It was addictive Rolling from place to place Able to scratch my hairy ass and the stubble on my face Without sweating getting tossed to my left And ended up with the chaps like cleft chin Second week of August and my no hands is flawless I knew I was close to fulfilling the promise That I made to myself on the day I learned I can go from crib to work the curbs and turns [?] industrial park Present no hassles, baffle motorists scoffed At the B spectacled spectacle Something green in his mouth and it ain't a vegetable Smoking the shit they say makes you forgetful But I ain't about to forget the day I rode with a pair of free mitts And a J.O.I.N.T. lit [Scratches] "Making tracks on BMX bicycles"