Lyrics:
got a call in Alabama said come on home to Louisiana
And come as fast as you can fly.
'Cause your mama really needs you, and says shes gotta see you,
From old Montana down to Alabama I've been before and I'll travel again
You trifling women can't keep a good man down
You dealt the cards but you
From old Montana down to Alabama I've been before and I'll travel again
You trifling women can't keep a good man down
You dealt the cards but you
bracket Portfolio in the packet
CPA just hit line called declined
Brick and mortar on some acres
All mine
On the lake knew we'd make it in due time
Stayed
Valentine's
Ten in New York, it's nine Alabama time
Moved to A-T-L, the whole East Atlanta mine
Billion dollar deal, I signed on the dotted line
Gucci 'bout
I've been feelin' down in Atlanta
Immobile in Alabama
I'd rather be in traction
Than to be here where I am
Oh, you Georgia red clay
And green
sits in a lonely shack in Alabama with his baby in her arms
But she's not a bad girl...
that their name hasn't traveled very well?
And does anybody in Ohio
Dream of that Spanish citadel?
But we still have Florence, Alabama
We don`t
I cross the Green Mountain
I sit by the stream
Heaven blazing in my head I
I dreamt a monsterous dream
Something came up
Out of the sea
Swept through
March, march, march, march
Boomdizzle, baby
Way back in 1776
Who would have thought we would have had these chicks
Sum kinda slim and some
your blood?
Did it come from your daddy and mama?
Were you converted by an Alabama song on the radio?
That feels so right
Did you lock eyes with
Thomas was a champion
No one can deny that
He led the Alabama Crimson Tide
In all time total sacks
But his heart was even bigger
Than all his natural skill
around some powerful stuff
I can see by the look in her eyes
This country boy's getting lucky tonight
The party's on (party's on)
The party's
stuff
I can see by the look in her eyes
This country boy's getting lucky tonight
The party's on (party's on)
The party's on (party's on)
The party's
it's 6 in the mornin'
Should I stay, ain't got no time to play
Put my ??? by my t-shirt
Then I break, to the door
My partner's three deep in a six-four
of my single-wide door
Raised by them dope boys, so I know how them things look
Thanks for the recipe, rest in peace, Wayne Bush
I don't cook my shit,
Same shit.
Same shit go down in my hood go down in your hood.
>From New Orleans to Long Beach to New York.
To Alabama.
To motherfuckin
and it gives a pose
It's too much for me to be givin' to you
Uh, all I'm givin' is some dick in you
Now she agree (uh), I told the bitch to blaze
verbals & graphic grammar
My verbal murder strech from Alaska to Alabama
Get touched by my Arm & Hammer
All across the planet niggas crumble like
on
The big screen then hit every trap and traveled on
Past, present to Texas to Alabama strong
(I'm tha King)
Down in Miami, up to Louisiana homes
From
They say it takes more now
To do what our Mom and Daddy's did
They made it look so easy
Working hard and raising kids
If you get in trouble
They say it takes more now
To do what our Mom & Daddy's did
They made it look so easy
Working hard and raising kids
If you get in trouble at school
and glamor
Cookin' up grams with Arm & Hammer
Supplyin' scramblers in Alabama
Rub out faces and leave no traces
My aces got mad body cases, preserve spaces
Tush, Cocaine, Sweet Home Alabama
I knew I had her in the palm of my hand
When I stepped in the spotlight
Hot and heavy in that little alley
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