Lyrics:
look out, well clear the way, 'cause here we come
Stand by for a concussion
The men eat fire, sleep on nails and saw their wives in half
It seems
And phony virgins
If I had banks on every finger
A finger in every country
And every country ruled by me
I'd still know where I'd want to be
Locked up
The IRS callin' your phone, boy, it might be a bill collector
The tax man ringin' your phone, girl
They're here to extract your nectar
The IRS
I'ma see you in Hell (inhale)
Battle rap? Boy you wouldn't win a debate
The type of legacy I got
You don't get by mistake
Man don't let them amp you up
country
(told the truth)
The stars and stripes and an apple for mommy
(for one day)
Conservative say: there ain't no black in the union jack
Democrat
and knew
That the new star that was gonna
To appear in the East the time
Of it was at hand
A lot of others of course say
That they were told by God
That
money old like Bill Cosby
Hunnid bands, in all hundreds, when I make it rain it thunder
Cop a Lamb every summer, wrappin' bricks like it's a condom
I'm
stuck by your motto
Dictatorship is for life
Not just for Christmas
You get your ham from a place in Spain.
They fly it in by aeroplane.
You burn your
payin' the rest of them fools
All around the world in the other countries
They should be spendin' that money right here
In the state of California
You
the country picks
D:Martin Van Buren number eight
For a one-term shot as chief of state
Y:William Harrisson, how do you praise
That guy was dead in
won't laugh at your looks
Your voice or your face
And by any number of bets in the book
Will be rollin' long after the bubblegum craze
You need
at bikinis goin by in a|bass boat||Life is good and only gettin better|I got no worries livin free as a feather|My guitar floats, back porch is my boat|Just
jail and the welfare lines
And all my life I thought Bill Clinton ran the country
Until I found out Bill Gates had all the money
And the media
good seeds grow
In my six string world
Got some buddies and a good lookin' girl
Gotta porch with a hell of a view
Where we sit and play them country
etc.
Oh my my, oh hell yes
Cowboy boots and a little country dress
Later in the night they play the final song
Last call for alcohol then the lights
A very disgruntled group
Have posted bills
On the Cotswold Hills
To prove that we're in the soup.
While begging Kipling's pardon
There's one thing we
Peoples' eyes closed like envelopes by folk membership
With unpaid doctor bills, framed got shot and killed
Cock, pop and pilled
Three-tenth cotton steel
Everydays the same to me
Seven days in every week
Some look forward to it
But I don't change just for the holiday's
You can have your Christmas tree
the long, long night
Sir Rastus Bear who'd ever believe
You'd be by a song
Redeemed
Up on the north forty
I'm sure it was Christmas day
When Sir
'cause the
Winners never even really runnin' it
How the country functioning?
TSA lines with a gun in it
I pray to touch down we ain't puntin' it
Niggas
Blue Is No Color For Christmas
Artist Shay Watson
Songwriters Shay Watson BILL DiLuigi Sesac Rhyme Partnerz
THE BAND IS SWINGING AND THAT TRIMMED
can grab
Don't wanna come off conceited, too proud
In front of those who really ain't have
Less than nothing, I ain't frontin'
Suburban country, I'm
can paddle from now to Christmas, we're going nowhere,
And it'll be the same hawk, blackberry bush and lumber camp
In the Great Lakes country sun after
Yeah Yeah!
Skrt Skrt!
TKAY!
Green, white and red, all up in my head
This just proves that my Christmas spirit is never ever dead!
I spread the joy
.jpg "Bill Gaither")
.jpg "Bill & Gloria Gaither")
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