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