Lyrics:
fruit jar
cnd old men keep plucking plucking that bass string guitar
Pig feet and barbecue (pig feet and barbecue), catfish and homemade brew
Butter beans
A whole lot of potatoes
And wondering if I can reach it
Breeze in the smell of tomatoes grown with peaches
Butter bean eyes when my nose it reaches
I
know what's real funny to me
When they get up for the downstroke
The look on their face when they almost choke
On the lean butter bean brown hamhock
I
psychology I’m connected well like topologies
I shoot first like twenty three I’ll knock you out like butter bean
We all started from the bottom we all waiting
mi run yuh soft feet
Touch yuh inna time when at a critical peak
Sunscreen coat skin like silk nah mean
More butter inna pocket than a tin a butter
that I tried
To love you completely
Where has that gotten me
Can you look me in my eyes
While you live this double life
I'm a hopeless butter bean
hang our washin'
On the clothes line from the window
We'll feast on corn bread, butter beans and lunch meat
We won't have a thermostat
A big long
a bunch of honeybees, nigga
Got hoes under me, like a submarine, nigga
Got a bitch with a clit like a butter bean, nigga (uh)
Bought myself a 9 and my
How the weather in the country
How the weather down south
How the weather in the Delta
How the food taste in your mouth
Butter beans
On the clothes line from the window
We'll feast on corn bread, butter beans and lunch meat
We won't have a thermostat
A big long Cadillac
But we'll have
and butter beans
Mardi Gras down in New Orleans
That's what I like 'bout the South
Down where the trees grow tall
Where everybody says y'all
Walk on in with
Grits and Butter Beans, too.
Chicken and Waffles and no Surprise,
Top it all off with Cherry Cobbler on the side.
Neck-bone's, Hoppin' John, we good for
Oh yeah this for the butter baby
You look good enough to get Soped up Roll
Butter baby
Milk Man Out the utter baby
Money was dry Now it's wet Like
I was raised in the middle of the cotton belt, babe
But I ain't gonna stay
I'll lose my shape fast draggin' cotton sacks
And eatin' butter beans ever
I was raised in the middle of the cotton belt babe but I ain't gonna stay
I'll lose my shape fast draggin' cotton sacks and eatin' butter beans ever
organ must count
For something
Girl you got to know these days
Which side your on
Little Amsterdam
Shut down today
They buried her with a
Butter
to them old back roads
No matter how young or old we get
We'll always be country kids
Shellin' butter beans on the porch with Grandma
Learnin' how to cut
the southern breeze, apple trees, sweet and right
Your smile right there with butter beans and cherry pie,
And all the other simple joys of life,
That
Modellin', modellin' queen
Modellin', modellin' queen
In a di mornin' she a give mi steam greens
In a di evening she give mi butter bean
In a di night she give
heart is reelin'
An' get yourself a bowl of butter beans
Anywhere east of the Rio Grande
Get you a cane pole in your hand
Fry a mess of fish up
livin' right
Eat butter beans and fried spam
I ain't what they say I am
'Cause there ain't no trash in my trailer.
Though you might find an empty can
Six strings, butter beans, Georgia peaches pick 'em
Copenhagen mason jars, large mouth lip 'em
Quarterbacks, white tails, hay bales stick 'em
Them
to pick at every
little smidgen of integraty,
as your industry bitch? NO,
final mentions, track the moniker,
to the freight hot reaking of butter beans
feast on cornbread butter beans and lunch meat
We won't have a thermostat or a big long Cadillac
But we'll have a love that's true
And I'll have
.jpg/300px-PeanutButterWolf(by_Scott_Dudelson).jpg "Peanut Butter Wolf")
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