Lyrics:
played
Waitin' for the Alabama sun to go down
Two red dirt girls in a red dirt town
Me and Lillian
Just across the line
And a little southeast
a fuck, say you could run that shit back
And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat
Cherry Bomb, the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound
You bitches ain't ready for the debut album
My homie came and said go and take over Malcolm
Now I'm up at the plate, knock the wind right out 'em
Probably never made a single person cold
But I can't say the same for me
I've done it many times
Somebody take me home, through those Alabama pines
Probably never made a single person cold
But I can't say the same for me
I've done it many times
Somebody take me home, through those Alabama pines
Ratin latent, and perpetratin
My album's love mics, tough like dirt bikes
You get frantic, New York City, run and panic
California, I switch
crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst
played
Waitin' for the Alabama sun to go down
Two red dirt girls in a red dirt town
Me and Lillian
Just across the line
And a little southeast
four by four
Seat laid back, cold six pack
Window cracked, I got the good fire rollin'
Tennessee to Atlanta cross the street to Alabama
Yellin' out
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Yeah be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way nigga
Some real shit right here nigga
This will be the realest shit you
Drinking too early by a couple years
Alabama pumping out the Alpines
Kool cigarettes and hot truck beer
Mama's tears and daddy's tough love
We knew
fade away the way that Bohemians often bare the frigid air
He returned from Alabama to see what he could see
Constant commentary by the wayside
Great!
Do I give a flying duck if I'm applyin'
Love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us?
Alabama's climbin' up, wait, no I don't give a flying duck
Nothing
a "Thunder Road" to make the wheels roll down the highway
Yeah, we all need a "Sweet Home Alabama" when you wanna play air guitar
A little "Lean on Me" when
old gray mules
The farm grew to be a money maker
And the house he lived in
Grew up room by room
The boy worked hard
But soon got tired of farmin'
knew you are why I write so
Run away with me
I sleep so much better by your side
Alabama could be a pretty sweet home for you and I.
A pretty sweet home
de sortie
J'viens juste d'annoncer ma sortie d'album
J'veux le cœur de Coluche
J'en suis certaine
J'veux pas pour des excès d'alcool
Ouais, j'suis
a backwoods baby
Drive my tractor drive me crazy
Likes huntin'
Loves fishin'
And she can hold her own in the kitchen
And by the way boys did I mention
She's
the number one album, ou
And I told 'em all I'm excited, ouu
And I told 'em all that they righteous, ouu
All you gotta do is be with Christ (facts!)
Niggas
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this shit by the way, nigga
Some real shit right here, nigga
This will be the realest shit you
I said, momma don't you worry
I'm gettin' by just fine out on the road
Yea tonight we play in Knoxville
And tomorrow night its back to music
Alabama
fig trees and okra
don’t get no better
Barefoot in Pineville
Louisiana.
I ain’t know nuttin bout the south (ex)cept stories I was told.
My mother
[Intro: Young Jeezy]
Yeah, be the realest shit I never wrote
I ain't write this by the way nigga, some real shit right here nigga
This'll be
Discuss these by alabama album alabama Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In