Lyrics:
But he makes them too much money
Who's gonna help Abdul?
Take him off the farm educate him in the school
When the machete chop he cut his arm and get
A colony of ants and a gaggle of geese
A school of fish and a murder of crows
And a great big tribe of goats
We live on a farm in Tennessee
Like old
in their mouth
Start a moonshine steal sleep in a tent
buy some cheap livestock find some land to rent
Then I'm a Cledus T. it up and down the farm
really acting fool, fool
Don't give me no chat fool
Go to school and
Stay outta trouble
Ghetto youths, stay outta trouble
And if you start plant di farm
campus so shit
Dear MTL
What do you value?
Your campus sucks dick, like more than Cal do
You took an exciting, loud and proud school
And changed it 'til
on the bus go to the school, to the school, to the school
The wheels on the bus go to the school
To the school
The doors on the bus go open and shut
Open
to my school in jail or they robbed
I call bro slime but im a ape I just got snakes up on my collar
No I cant kick it with dawgs cause I just found out
Pangolin Farm
Words & Music by Steve Richard Mahoney / Timothy Vincent Mauldin
Ain't gonna beat a dead horse in his shoes,
Or crawl a mile
on for the nine-six, mad shows at the Ritz
Now we got you open like Fixx
Sticking to your stomach like Quaker Oat Grits
Fisherman hat with my brand new
gang clan called State Farm
No school teacher's gotten riches
Why are you confused everyday?
To be fair, that's normal for the UK
Brexit is a joke, it's
Ay it's Mackelbarrel we gotta hella cancel hella everything like hella fast
Like that Quaker Oats guy tell me he doesn't have a grain silo full
abolition, the irrigation system maker
Giving plants water for ammunition, not a quaker
The writer of almanacs, the city surveyor and all of that
L'Enfant left
out See if old MacDonald really had a farm
Why this new McDonald's have you feelin' starved
Just a question of mine that's been on my mind
Heard that
get real when it goes down (ay, yo)
Next generation, they know my name when I get in the station
Know me from Farm, they know I'm a paygon
Know I'm
smiling thinking to myself
Man, what a picture-perfect postcard this would make of America
It's a high school prom, it's a Springsteen song, it's a ride
on for the nine-six, mad shows at the Ritz
Now we got you open like Fixx
Sticking to your stomach like Quaker Oat Grits
Fisherman hat with my brand new
migration
The birds in my school keep flocking the thugs in my school keep rocking
The same old true religion and nudies, mimicking rappers they see
Im just
that isn't ours
And wearin' cotton we didn't grow
He's got the red, white,
And blue flyin' high on the farm
Semper fi tattooed on his left arm
Spends
ever 'round my farm
You can share my bed
I Don't know what you're smokin'
Or what you been learnin' in school
But if you're ever 'round my farm
You can
We never look in to the summer
Shinin wind we havin fun
Happiness is not in season but we
Take it how it comes
With the jam quakers, butt shakers
clothes
To wear or sell when you wash out the blood
Run my little brother
Run to the chicken farm
Opportunity is calling
You might even find a watch
Country Gold Saturday Night
“Down on the Farm”, “I Walk the Line”
clabama by the bonfire
Gettin' loud with the radio dial
ct my best friend Zach's,
very hard
He grew up and went to law school
And then he passed the bar
Now he’s a farm lawyer
A real Atticus Finch
Except he does farm law
He really
high school ring
To the prettiest little girl, green eyes and red hair.
I think I might ask her to marry me tonight at the fair.
I ain't never been so
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