Lyrics:
down him like a shot but he still stood the test
He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scarred
We thought it would go hard when the waiter
there paintin' on the old wood shed
When a can o'black paint it fell on my head
I went down to scrub and rub
But I had to sit in back of the tub
Cost
there paintin' on the old wood shed
When a can o'black paint it fell on my head
I went down to scrub and rub
But I had to sit in back of the tub
Cost
We were half a mile high on the ferris wheel at our old county fair
I didn't even know we had trouble until she told me way up there
That's when my
Stranded inside a madhouse, baby.
Down in old Pine Grove.
Been up for days
in a drunkards haze,
just lit up by this stove.
We got the band in
down on his luck
The years go by but I'm the same old schmuck
The older I get the younger I feel
Sometimes life is just a repeat reel
It's dangerous
rock, run 'em with blocks in 'em
Fresh out the county, I'm boxin' 'em
Moved on up and bought a continental, nigga, with knock in it
Now I'm rockin' it,
Well I live all alone in Chickasaw County
Way out on 109
Where the run-down barns and rusty tractors
Are covered in Kudzu vines
For eighty-five
"Goodbye Dixe" by Corey Smith from the CD "Hard-Headed Fool"
(Whistling Dixie)
Passed an old plantation home off Hwy. 41
Been around since 1850,
'Cause country ain't country no more
Now his dad sit's in traffic
Looking 'round at the change
Watching crews turn the county
Road into four lanes
The old
picked
Mostly made up of old cans and sticks
Then one day he was cranking out Bob Marley
And along came the Wolf on his big bad Harley
"Little pig,
picked
Mostly made up of old cans and sticks
Then one day he was cranking out Bob Marley
And along came the Wolf on his big bad Harley
"Little pig,
down him like a shot but he still stood the test
He swallowed tripe and lard by the yard, we got scarred
We thought it would go hard when the waiter
like these cuts from old school
Cookin it up just like it's soul food
Fuck all y'all, I never did know you
Bring the ProTools, stack it on up
And little
stuck
(Chorus)
Verse 2
A unwanted child a victim of the ghetto
Labeled as a lowlife, a go getter
An outcast looked down by
sing about that, that’d be fine by me"
In the old days they’d call that a duet I think
Grabbed a bottle of Mineragua
And from my nightstand an orange
years old
If the refs get political
Dribble like bob dole am I gettin' lyrical?
Daddy, I think so
Monstar droppin' flavor fluid so drink slow
Yo, God
the fog
And that whale of a crew
Was reduced down to two
Just myself and the Captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock
Oh Lord ! what a shock
Down in Russell County, in the small town I was raised
There's plenty of struggle, it's something we all face
We learn at a very young age,
hay in June
Sitting by the road watching well-fires burn
By an old October moon
I learned to drive on those East Texas red clay backroads
And I
right hand
And the blues fell mama's child
Tore me all upside down
Blues fell mam's child
And it tore me all upside down
Travel on, poor Bob
runnin round the town's where I found life
Before I started writing down underground soundbites
Now I like to think how back then impact the present
All
got struck in the game
Po-po's got me face down on the bed by a big bag of 'caine
And I'm thinkin in my head 'I just left Y.A.'
Now on my way
that's on the ledge
And there's no one to talk you down
And tuck you in the bed
Lord, it's so ironic that it's funny
Of something for the books
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