Lyrics:
drinkin' I'd just hold you back
Go on and sign the contracts hon and I'll read about you
In some old newspaper blowin' cross some lonesome hobo camp
Me
drinkin' I'd just hold you back
Go on and sign the contracts hon and I'll read about you
In some old newspaper blowin' cross some lonesome hobo camp
Me
girl and a Tennessee way of life
And I'm gonna ask my Tennessee girl to be my Tennessee wife
Tonight I slept in a hobo camp workin' out like dog by day
Out on the freight line there's an old hobo camp
Where a drunk man lay sleepin' in a ragged old tram
And the lines on his face mark a life
gonna drive until I'm lost to time
Gonna disappear into the prairie to dance a nomad pantomime
Gonna warm my body near the fire of a hobo camp outside
In dingy bars and cold boxcars hobo jungle camps
I joined the men who drift from town to town
The surgin' flood of restless blood flowed inside my
used to know I told him I'd be back
Got a cowboy friend out in Nelaband who shared with me his shack
When you've lived like a tramp in a hobo camp it
Old hobo's sitting out around the camp fires at night
Fall and some more coffee in an old tin can trying to keep warm
Listen to them
But it is also
past the stars
I'm gonna' be the first hobo on Mars
Drifter, vagabond, vagrant, tramp
All welcome in my galactic camp
A noble pursuit though history
a spell, Paul called to Roaring Jim,
"Hey, check out the lumber camp on your southpaw bank!
I could have sworn we were lonesome in Michigan, Jim:
You ever
Talking shit still
Uno dos tres like a cholo
And you checked the bill
You’re a hobo
And you bout to kill
For a hoe tho
Number one like Ronaldo
Notta apart
vibrant and deep when you're stealing my sleep
Like a thief in an upscale hotel
You're certain and damp and you're setting up camp
Until you're saved by
now I'm dropping songs
I get on these pills and, ooh, I get in my zone
I was raised round hobos 44s getting chased by the popos
Man I remember
they drove me from my camp
Ran me off just like a hobo tramp
I hymned and hawed threw sticks and stones
They wandered in my tent where I rest my bones
the Bush Camps of New Brunswick hired Wilf for a better pay|And Wilf began to yodeleyaee in the back woods of Amdee||(yodeling)||From the Maritimes to Boston
as fuck without soap
Keep my poetry like get out ho (get out hoe)
Bustin' like a forty-four
Mr. motherfuckin' no-no from that hobo
Junction is
you cant breath without me
Remove your cornea, what do you see without me
It's probably not much like a hobo diet
I'm going to the top, call me
phony like hobos without bologna
wanna catch me alone so you can whip your straps on
But fuck yall, till the day I murdered em' all
Stack em tall like you
these gimmicks and the acts that you glorify
Sick of slicing niggas up told them put the sword aside
Konkrete camp stand tall bitch we fortified
Don't you
VS1
I've travelled railways, moving along
Thousand city limit signs, thousand hobo songs Never thought much about what I missed or had gone Jumped
so now that gotta be the way
I started in the streets like a hobo, now I'm mobile
I organize my business, but I still duck the robo
I make mo' money,
Niggas is phony like hobos without bologna
want to catch me alone so you can whip your straps on
But fuck y'all, till the day I murdered em' all
Stack
d’Beesonville que'que part à Shawinigan County
A’ pogné les hobo blues à 15 ans, sacré son camp en après-midi
Des fois que je pense que je comprends c’que son
.jpg/300px-Hobo_Johnson_(45668161975).jpg "Hobo Johnson")
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