Lyrics:
I got an orange duffle bag full of straps, uh huh huh
Cocaine blues, Johnny Cash, uh huh huh
Harmonica on the train for some money
Zero pennies in my
Throw your suitcase in the back
(Whoa)
Done gassed up the Pontiac
(Whoa)
Blastin' out to Johnny Cash
Headin' for the highway
Baby, we ain't ever
Whoa
Blastin' out to Johnny Cash
Headin' for the highway
Baby, we ain't ever comin' back
I said
Whoa
Hear that train a-comin', rollin' 'round
Brooklyn fast-talker
Big jewelry-sporter, sippin Johnny Walker
She bought me this drink, she's flashin her cash
She passin me hints like she want to give me
it
I'ma kill it
I tried to tell 'em
Get the yellow tape
Get them body bags
All black wardrobe nigga
Johnny Cash
Anytime that the Doc is the buildin'
people in the world who are listening
(tell 'em)
I have a friend named Johnny D
His band is Tin Tree Factory
Everything he does is gold to me
And it's
get stopped
On the block by the cops
They be coming for his life
Look
12:45 on a weekday
On a east train
He been up all night
Glock 29 in his backpack
If that ain't country it'll hair lip the pope
If that ain't country it's a damn good joke
I've been on the Grand Ol Opry and I know Johnny Cash
And if
(Brrr)
Change a bitch life when she
Layin' with a hustler
Had the same attitude when I
Was playin' with a onion (Uh, huh)
Your girl ask for cash
You might
Drinking all night and all day
Straight out the bottleneck
Heading straight to the bank
to cash the vibe cheque
From the monday club blues
To an album full
of the slums
With a shot that go, for twisted metal for cash flow
React slow nigga and get, P.L.O
By the lone gunner, who took revenge for his brother
Who got
One time
Huhh, all up in ya like a bone when I
Johnny Blaze, the Iron Lung
Foxy Brown, the ill na na (yeah, see'mon, yeah, see'mon)
Destination
Like Johnny Cash, but he's got the things I don't got
Something about you write a song, that gets them all hopping and rolling along
Got to find the key
sounds
Like Elvis, Johnny Cash
And a little bit of Waylon Jennings
(You know that's true)
I still sip well water right out of the hose
Smoke so much weed
facts
I know they mad thats in the past
No I ain't Johnny I stay with the Cash
Don't play with me play with a Bag
Keeping it G aint shit sweet
Yo pockets
shit
HMV at the cash register, girls tryin to make me buy CD's
Soft jazz and homo R&B
I ain't payin for that Allure shit
Walkin by Bloomingdales
This song is by Mississippi Fred McDowell and
appears on the album Mississippi Fred McDowell (1995).
John Henry was a steel-drivin'
John Henry was
this wilderness, where my only companion is hate and shame
Like Johnny Blaze, it's fuck the world
While I walk the line like Johnny Cash
Trapped
ass
Johnny Cash, afro havin'
Jack of Spades, boots havin'
Tony Danza, shoes wearin' ass!
B-b-b-black by popular demand, I expand
My hand
annoying is that annoying as Poison and the birth of rap
This is the Boys To Men Album meets Johnny Cash ain't no boys on this album only Nash
A boy who
Immature, yeah I always cried
Me and John both wanted to make an album so we just compromised
We meet in the middle and we're criticized
All that talk, all
and poppin' seals
I remove the fakes and shit got real
My shooter got Tech Fleece on
He don't train, but he trained to kill
Remember when Cash hit me up
shoot right over there" (fuck that man, yo)
"And, yo, them niggaz got the big cream over there"
"Aight, let's get this cash smooth, nigga"
"So chill"
still trying to drop three albums by Labor Day, motherfucker
Saturday morning cartoons
Filling up a medical balloon with some hot sauce
Goddamn, I saw
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