Lyrics:
I'd probably run for President of the Southern States
When Patsy Cline passed away, that would be our national holiday
If the South woulda won, we'd
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
I'd probably run for President of the Southern States
When Patsy Cline passed away, that would be our national holiday
If the South woulda won, we'd
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
pallbearer at Ronnie's funeral.
Such is the duality of the southern thing.
Bear Bryant wore a cool lookin' red checkered hat and won football games,
bearer at
Ronnie's funeral such is the Duality of the
Southern Thing And Bear Bryant wore a cool
Lookin' red checkered hat and won football
Games
regretfully support the lunacy
I'm afraid there is no time for more scrutiny
National unity preserve our community
Teflon© election opportunities
Were in
is no time for more scrutiny
National unity preserve our community
Teflon© election opportunities
were in profundant abundance
On January second
Favored N Flavored make bigger quarterly dividends /
I’m Southern Hills playin golf but I’m still on the Nawf /
Made my bro a manager so he ain’t gotta sell
the southern special
When the summer rise and fall
Now I ride the national
If I had a black cat bone
Then I would not be alone
Do it darling, dig my grave
This
still had hope
Would it make you recall?
When we were dreaming 'bout fame in a crystal mansion
You were singing my name like your national anthem
Oh
Yeah, uh, East Point, smokes some dank
College Park in the house
Decatur
Uh, Old National got the skanks
Everybody, uh, know what I'm sayin'
Yeah, uh, East Point, smokes some dank
College Park in the house
Decatur
Uh, Old National got the skanks
Everybody, uh, know what I'm sayin'
Yeah, uh, East Point, smokes some dank
College Park in the house
Decatur
Uh, Old National got the skanks
Everybody, uh, know what I'm sayin'
higher, higher, higher
So tell me why she wanna leave me?
Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh-ooh
Ooh-ooh, ooh
As the days go on
In the southern region of our
1. Deeming, Burgan, Cohen. The National Fire-Danger Rating Sys¬tem. USDA Forest Service, General Technical report. INT-39, 1978.
2. Garcia Diez,
of our previous government size
Look in his eyes
See how he lies
Follow the scent of his enterprise
Centralizing national credit
And making
the lads
The lazy days, the Phoenix Nights
The reds, the blues, the blacks, the whites
The Southern belles, the Northern lights
The Bombay mix,
ain't doin'
I'm just makin' routes
Rowdy, bumpin' like South States
Southern in your blouse, ow
As I pull that out
Got a loft with a red couch
Come see
some hating ass hoes
Southern Belle, Jazzy Belle, Never Monogamous
?? be hot because my deeper esophagus
Still they run up on me, smile and phone me,
presidential, get a pistol to your temple
I'll let it faint, leave your brain lingering in limbo
Southern fried that's how I ride, creed on simple
Kill 'em all
and you hearin right
National Geographic ain't, fuckin with this wildlife
Hissin; I'm finna strike, rattlin; I'm finna bite
Hell with a blue light,
pain, stop your car
Glacier Bay National Park
Returned your body to the mother of us all
Was there a push or did you fall
I move fast, it's hollow,
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