Lyrics:
ain't good as your old shit
'Til your new shit is your old shit, son, in this sun, let me get some
I wear this 24 karat solid gold rollie for my son
your life in one flight,
Lets take off tonight, come on
We go,
We go down
Love is in,
Then its out
We can tell,
Tell by now
If it wont, work out
Lets
winter, it's a cold world
Old girl turned to coke, tried to smoke her pain away
Isis, life just, ended on that rainy day
When she got the news her boy
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
specialize in misconstruin'
We wanna be at a presidential level, what are we doin'?
Foolin' ourselves, clownin' ourselves, playin' ourselves
By not bein'
bar out in Odessa
Dirty needles breaking all the old records
A hundred hoes, one shovel and some old treasure
Ole Zeke use teeth as a gold tester
I got an old lady with a blue van, she does the best I think she can
'Cause every time I hit the road, she gets me to every gospel show
She's ain't
good to a boy with mud on his feet
And I'm wishing these days I could strip to my soul
And go for a dip in the old swimmin' hole
A symbol of our
tower
'Bout the speed of watchin' wildflowers grow
Ain't but two ways this old boy's gonna go
Slow and southern, southern and slow
Yeah, I'm over
to him
She said boy dontcha let him in
She was cussing and pacing and wasting her life
On that linoleum floor
He took him back to his old apartment
gonna work? You know you owe me too much to stop."
John said, "I got a little workin' to do but I ain't goin' by your clock."
People said John was
more
So grab your fiddle and your old banjo
Play a country blues so sweet and slow
We'll sing along to the drunkard's doom
And rock all night by
believe it, I just had to find out for myself
That there's some things in this world you just can't explain.
The old man lived in the Wooly Swamp way back
you can't hear the silence
Even when it's there. Like the wind seen from the window,
Seeing it but not being touched by it.
*
Words sometimes
wake up fine and dandy
But then by the time I find it handy
To rip my heart apart and start
Planning my crash landing
I go up, up, up, up, up
these rocks this creek?
Raton Canyon by name pours
Coyote leaves & old Pomo bones
& old dust of Tomahawks
into your angler'd maw
My salt maw shall
still shining, Flaker, Kily Cali - we still grinding
The streets is raw avoid the sirens, drive-bys all sorts of violence (Raaa)
Its Dem Boys from Raw
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Otown marco
Aye aye
I’m a old soul, I just peep things
Roll that dope smoke, that’s how we ease pain
Tell 'em take a photo,
Smokey bars playin' old guitars Night sky, singin' like the stars
Open roads, misty morning cold Night sky, singin' by the stars
Teenage boys, old string
whiskey and our own smoke, too
Ain't too many things these old boys can't do
We grow good old tomatoes and homemade wine
And a country boy can survive,
as Dino (Flintstone)
Shootin' dice with my ninety-five year old grandma at the casino (ball)
Countin' a half a ticket by hand, wit' my Mexican homeboy
this
Old thing back
Old thing back
Left him for her ex
She want that old thing back
The money is cool
But there's something he lack
What she telling him
home-grown
Gets her diesel wound up and she'll be long gone
Got her old boots on, new straw hat
Any red-blooded country boy's gotta love that
Some guys
Once I was seven years old, my mama told me,
"Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely."
Once I was seven years old
It was a big big
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