Lyrics:
big mess
And that's a crying shame
Preach on it
It's a crying shame
The way this country's done gone up on flames
Is it just me
Or does gettin' by get
should be easier ways to get a laugh
(Shall I slip on my big shoes?)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hooray! Well blow a horn, everybody duck
Yeah. It's
at
I see irrelevance condoned by the delegates
Their regression is evident they own
What I been off
Fuck it since it's the samaritan's I sold
I'ma
should be easier ways to get a laugh
(Shall I slip on my big shoes?)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hooray! Well blow a horn, everybody duck
Yeah. It's
to me there should be easier ways to get a laugh
(shall I slip on my big shoes?)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hooray! Well blow a horn, everybody
to me there should be easier ways to get a laugh
(Shall I slip on my big shoes?)
Off on the road to Morocco
Hooray! Well blow a horn, everybody
made[01:45.54]My 4x4 back window[01:47.17]Hold the 12 gauge[01:48.32]Dirt road swervin' down in south Alabama[01:50.76]Hammer down slingin' mud
a pussy, I ain't tryin' to change
Far from average, I'm smokin' this cabbage
Bottled teeth, joint karats, say cheese, make the cops freeze
Big cribs, four
in map pins
On the East Side of Big Island
Like what's happening
And a Freak on my lanai
Butt ass naked practicing back bends
No past tense, Just
of Big Island
Like what's happening
And a Freak on my lanai
Butt ass naked practicing back bends
No past tense, Just cliffs
The finger prints of the gods
of Big Island
Like what's happening
And a Freak on my lanai
Butt ass naked practicing back bends
No past tense, Just cliffs
The finger prints of the gods
of Big Island
Like what's happening
And a Freak on my lanai
Butt ass naked practicing back bends
No past tense, Just cliffs
The finger prints of the gods
of the best directors in the country
Like Harve, Ar T (?), Cazh (?), and the MacDonald brothers Luke and Nick
Around 2010, I started working with a guy by
is genuine concern for the country I'm in
I'm no fucking Tom McDonald
I'm actually in this shit
Affected by this shit
It's a cold world
And that's why
Yeah this is war
This no game
We don't play
We want more
We want 4s
4 by 4 we want her to get down low
B road no go zone
We get bad to the bone
You
We're gonna wear our fingers out
Yeah we're about to do it like Cash and Jones
Put a little rock in a country song put a little rock in your country road
I`m on the road, Im on the roll.
Doing my dance when I get that.
4 twentyfours suicide doors and with my bro`s thats big slat.
Don`t waste my time,
pride
Deep in the country where you could see flags hooked up to the back of a four wheel drive
Or some really big rims
Tucked in the back while they
(ha)
"Farewell (ha), big brother," then he closed the trunk
Then Cutter hit the road, his daddy fussin' (ha)
And plus, it's summer time, his daddy
my cows and turn my stone
Till the big Grand Coullee boys come along
My eyes are crossed, my back's in a cramp
Tryin' to read my Bible by my coal-oil
We all four grew up together
In a small Virginia country town.
And, for some strange reason... God only knows...
We got to singin' around.
And about
tonight
As I listen to the big wheels roll
Three days into a six week tour,
Gettin' in the rhythm of the road
We pick and sing,
Say "goodnight" then
of tvs too big for a buggy
You'll see me riding by middle finger to the sky
With my tongue hanging
Four doors swing double homicide
Sun shining every way
what you heard
Bro, man are real life shotta
Call up for a bird
Amni's coming in proper
Four door swerve, skrrr skrrr, skrrr
Bang, road lock lock
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