Lyrics:
Bush," not Macon
Fuck waist-deep, I'm in over my head
But it's cool, I'ma make it, I'm good like Meagan
Your girl wants me to come 'round her like
I wonder what's the trouble, great big troubles at my door
I wonder what's the trouble, great big troubles at my door
Yes I'm goin' up to Macon
(huh? What's up?)
West side Macon, Georgia, yeah, I ran that bitch
Niggas see me still standin', they can't stand that shit, hah (yeah)
I said I talk
ridin' thumb
Left his home down in Macon, Georgia
Left the shade of an old oak tree, tree
Got his dreams in his left front pocket
Got his eyes
Listen, people, listen
I`m gonna sing you a song
About a man who lived good
But didn't live too long
He was born in Macon, Georgia
A poor boy
nigga you ain't really with the shit
You ain't never sold no coke and you ain't never hit a lick
You drove all the way from Macon thought he came to buy
gardienne de prison, chanteuse d'orchestre et franc-maçon
Une strip-teaseuse, à temps perdu, emmerdeuse comme on en fait plus
Femme conducteur d'autobus,
WELL HER LOVE WAS A HABIT AND I TRIED TO KICK IT
SO I WENT DOWNTOWN AND BOUGHT A ONE-WAY TICKET
AND I RODE THAT GREYHOUND DOWN TO MACON
THEN I
ridin' thumb.
Left his home down in Macon, Georgia. Left the shade of an old oak tree.
Got his dreams in his left front pocket.
Got his eye squinted
I have never loved a lady
Never touched no silken knee
Macon baby, you drove me crazy
You were so easy to me
Lay me down in Georgia pine cones
l'appareil, bientôt riche
Quand Mwaka Moon aura fait mouche
Allô la Terre, ici, y'a pas d'eau
Chelou comme un son de franc-maçon
Qui sont-ils vraiment, I
Hmm-hmm-hmm talk to me Ohio hmm-hmm-hmm tell me where she's gone
Talk to me Ohio can't you hear my song
A Greyhound bus in Macon took her to Atlanta
The Silver
down.
Wish I was back in Macon takin' it easy
'Cause when a man's gonna eat fried chicken he's a-gonna get a-greasy.
Omaha honey had a hold on a hell
gardienne de prison, chanteuse d'orchestre et franc-maçon
Une strip-teaseuse, à temps perdu, emmerdeuse comme on en fait plus
Femme conducteur d'autobus,
She was a flower for the takin', her beauty cut just like a knife
He was a banker from Macon, he swore he'd love her all a his life
He bought her
Okela Mayamba Mama ya bana na ngai
Abota Brian na Ana bana na ngai bebê oh yeah Nakomi esclave d’amour liboso na yo bébé
Ba maçon ba tonga ba ndako ya
un' blouse de maçon,
Mais j'étais gai comm' un pinson
Comm' un pinson rempli d'audac'
J'avais ach'té pour fair' nouveau
Un joli masque de fortune
Qui
with Baby
If you know what I know
I get behind her and she shake it
That's my baby
Got this bitch that's from Atlanta
But I met her out in Macon
Walkin'
mauvais garçon pour satisfaire tout mes démons
Je suis ce mauvais maçon qui te bâtira des murs en carton
Rudes épreuves sur ma route je klaxonne
Mes erreurs
Tennessee
I never washed dishes in Macon, Georgia
I wasn't half as good and I wasn't half as pretty as you
But I still got the feelings - embedded in my
Headin' south on the Macon trail
Kickin' dust inside some county jail
Her mama said "Hey Jackie you be good"
'Cause she knew that she would be
like me.
I can wash dishes down in Macon, Georgia
And help a blind eye to see.
I'm gonna sing a little song of love for you one more time,
(Tutti
I shot a man in Macon over a poker game
I killed another in Atlanta just to build my fame
Well, know I hear them hammers, they're pounding out my
heard that into every life
A little of it must fall
If there's any truth to the saying,
Lord, let it be a southern rain
Marie was born in Macon
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