Lyrics:
the horses raised in those Kentucky hills
The national treasury would be in Tupelo, Mississippi
And I'd put Hank Williams picture on one hundred dollar bill
If the South woulda won, we woulda had it made
I'd probably run for President of the Southern States
The day Elvis passed away would be our national
the horses raised in those Kentucky hills
The national treasury would be in Tupelo, Mississippi
And I'd put Hank Williams picture on one hundred dollar bill
If the South woulda won
We woulda had it made
I'd probably run for President
Of the Southern States
The day Elvis passed away would
Be our national
If the South woulda won
We woulda had it made
I'd probably run for President
Of the Southern States
The day Elvis passed away would
Be our national
show mi you fi rocking dally
Say, gal
Mi want you show mi you fi horse man Scotty
Say, call papa Toyan di DJ daddy
Say, say, papa Toyan in a category
Elliott)
"Lose Control" (Missy Elliott solo)
"Firework"
Announcement: "The National Football League
Welcomes you to
The Pepsi Super Bowl 49 Halftime Show
free show ole do isho! She don show!! YEh eeh x2! Folake no get shishi for pocket! Her shoulder dey up!! Always dey form boss! She chill big boys! Dat
the cartel (Oh)
From the cartel
National anthem
National anthem (Oh)
National anthem
All my men from the cartel
I don show (Eh)
All my men from the cartel
I
our boy"
But I should know
Why you've gone
Because again and again you've explained
You've gone to the
National, ah
To the National
There's
our boy"
But I should know
Why you've gone
Because again and again you've explained
You've gone to the
National, ah
To the National
There's
To the National...
There's a country; you don't live there
But one day you would like to
And if you show them what you're made of
Oh, then you might do...
mud.
I'll tell you Paul Revere,
Now this is no bum steer,
It's from a handicapper that's real sincere.
This guy says the horse shows class,
Can do,
animals with penises day or something doesn't show up in The discordian calendar
Ah the interwebs inform me that indeed it is
National barbershop music
So we'll do a new show
So you'll meet a new dame
So you'll take some time for personal pleasure
There gotta be endings
Or there wouldn't be
It pays to have that
National sway
Oh
It pays to have that
National sway
If I were a federal outlaw
I wouldn't be allowed
To call the judge by her
up
I don't trust nobody
I ain't play I just finesse
I'm a studio criminal
All I do is typical
Put my sh*t on the gallery
Welcome to my national
our boy"
But I should know
Why you've gone
Because again and again you've explained
You've gone to the
National, ah
To the National
There's
the horse into the jolly ranch
Keep the hush
The good, the bad, and Uncle Tom, beat it, kid (whoa)
Do-do-do, do-do-do-do-do
Show the sheep 'cause I found
national crisis
Are in our faces Cowboys, whips, and horses, federal forces
Landowners throwing us off of our unnatural courses
Designer brands, I won't
Do ya, or don't ya know
When you're hurtin' me
It just goes to show
Your kind of qualities
That's why I don't fuck with you no more
Do ya, or don't
Well with buck shot eyes and a purple heart
I rolled down the national stroll
And with a big fat paycheck strapped to my hip sack
And a shore leave
show yuh somethin now
Verse 3:
Mi a toppa top gallis boss mi nuh deal wid ass boss
So one day a bredda call mi like him waan buy race horse
So mi
on, fuck me on the run
Hold me close enough (Uwoah)
Na she dey pass my lane o
Personal-Personal-Personal ting o
Shey you go show me the natural ting o
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