Lyrics:
walked on me
You walked out on us
Going to the smokehouse
Going there by myself
Going to the smokehouse
Don't want to see nobody else
Going
It was back at the smokehouse
I wanna get me some
I had a bottle of whisky
And a bag of wine
Ya headed back to the shithouse
I had to follow ya
Arby's Rib Sandwich (woo)
Straight out the smokehouse, Texas my old route
Eight hours to slow cook, keep push for the rollout
The boss with the Smoky Q
Una doble cuarto de libra...
Más nuggets (Y unaa smokehouse)
Eeeh coca cola light las dos
Más una McNífica agrandada (Y unaa smokehouse)
También
Sending out your smokehouse chimes with me every day
Twisting up two fault lines, call Salome, Salome
Churning out victory wines or so they say, they
unless you with sloppy shit
Rocking shirts that's saying BR
Girl that's from the DR
She give me CPR then I kicked her out my CIZAR
SMokeHouse that's who we
to the smokehouse
Drink whisky and gin
Down to the smokehouse
'Til it do me in
Along came a wild one
She lead me to sin
Say got to get it on got to try it on
Better
I’m going down
Down down down
To the Richardson Smokehouse
I’m gonna get me
One of their ham hocks
The ones with sugar, sugar, sugar on top
just take my break I guess
One phone call to the SMokeHouse man dem pull up skee mask in a brand new Getz
Baddie from Cupe Coy wan me check her but with
the Smokehouse crew
Getting this brisket from the Smokehouse crew
Yeah, and I just love your honesty
Came to your games with integrity
I'll let you be yourself
motherfuckers like my name was cancer
Indo be the truth if you looking for the answer
All we do is smoke out
At the smokehouse
We go blow down
All we do is smoke
to kill to put in the smokehouse
The preacher's comin' Sunday to spend the day
But we're still a-livin', so everything's okay
The canned stuffs spoiled
rich folks beat
Cause I've got a field of yellow yams
And a smokehouse filled with country hams
Talk to me about caviar
They ain't nothing but fish eggs
the smokehouse
The preacher's comin' sunday - to spend the day
But - we're still a-livin' - so ever'thing's okay.
The canned stuff's spoiled - else the jar's
to kill to put in the smokehouse
The preacher's comin' Sunday to spend the day
But we're still a-livin', so everything's okay
The canned stuffs spoiled
coltrane on the k.l.h.
Chorus
It's you and me honey, in a crowded booth
At the smokehouse in the sand
I'm dragging out some bad old gag
When you touch my
on a smokehouse wall
Where the swamp is alive with a thousand eyes
An' all of them watching you
Stay off the track to Hattie's Shack in the back of the Black
It's even better this time around
With Coltrane on the K.L.H.
[Chorus]
It's you and me honey, in a crowded booth
At the Smokehouse in the Sand
coherently
Obviously, prolly be trappin' in a
Smokehouse where we can't sleep
But know to keep a burner for
An enemy if he weak
Say that when he see me he gon
Do you want to play house?
Do you want to play house?
Now I know that you're not playing
So in my house, you'll be staying
Rough house, smokehouse
a bacon smokehouse meal with no cheese
Yeah, with no cheese on the thang, and uh
Okay, would you like the meal large?
The meal is gon' be large, the meal
smokehouse I put on the team
I smoke plenty dope like a fiend
You know I don't pour up that lean
You know I don't fuck w/the lean
I bleed like a sharpie this
in the club I show out
Twenty bands a fuckin show done turned into a smokehouse
O yeah I'm at yo hoe house waiting on you to pull up
Choppa in my hand
tryna get it wired
I know your trademark baby, fuck nigga you a liar
Old body like bill, like time you should retire
A Smokehouse rib gotchu eating
Big
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