Lyrics:
[Bun B]
Now if you come down to this dirty south
Betta' watch your ears cause country boys talk with a dirty mouth
And they on them corners and they
I've never really been a country boy
I was born and raised in Montreal
Donʼt even know whatʼs playinʼ on the radio
But let me tell you just one
out the ride
Got a loaded .45 inside
That I keep for protection when I'm riding by
My Smith & Wesson got a scope too
And I may have caught a body
said, "Son, don't get offended by what I'm about to say
I can see you have a passion
For the songs you write and play
But you lack what we all call
As a boy I would sit in my room
And listen to the radio
TNT (Top Nine Tonight) we'd learn
The biggest hits this country could hold
Seattle sound
Just an old country boy, wearing my Osh-Kosh boots
Walked by the trailer factory, every day on my way to school
And early on in life, the only
Girl, you shine like a brand new dime,
Like a song in rhyme I can sing to.
I bet them boy doll stand in line
So they can take you out and try
hands up, she lose grip, she desperate Let me catch a hungry bitch cause I'll feed her a lesson
She know that I Will like Smith, grab the Wesson
She call
have it
This is a YB extravaganza
Brought to you by
None other
Then ya boy
(tell em who you is shawty)
Yungin!
X L where u at?
Chi-Town I'm
You walk through the door
Place is jammed
Lights are low they got a country cover band
Singing songs by Merle and hank
And one funny little tune
Boy
Maybelle played her guitar
Like they'd never heard before
And Jimmie Rodgers yodeled
As blue as he could be
T for Texas
And Tennessee
Country
Leslie comes out on a Saturday night wearing that dress that fits just right
We're gonna meet the boys down at the bonfire
That song comes on that
that simple
Song boy I can't breath please I can't breath
Boy Boy
Are you listening
You ain't a man if you don't know the difference
The difference
excuses talk but can't manage
Causing more damage, the country inna panic
Some me use the music as an outlet
Them boy ah move foul nuh talk nuh poultry
Try
excuses talk but can't manage
Causing more damage, the country inna panic
Some me use the music as an outlet
Them boy ah move foul nuh talk nuh poultry
Try
want with the badge
And we all saw
There was a brown little boy
With his hands up in the sky
But they still sent the boy to the man up in the sky
Country
a man
When I met Ann, I soaked her pans
We ended up freakin' by garbage can
The next young freak I met was Red
I took her to the house and she gave me
Billy Callery
Lace your shoes with country blues
Ramble down that dusty ole road
Take your money down in the town
Gonna get rich in the game
Come
write a song about it and tell
All my fans that I beat him up all by myself--haha
[Chorus 2X:]
[Low-G]
I might play Chalupa, that's Mexican Bingo
Peace
lighting (woo)
Sounds like money to me, yeah
You and me writing our own love song
Slipping them muddy ol' work boots off
Down by the river underneath
steady bussin with the blonde
Now hold up you wanna play my song
Boy hes hot raps never took too long
Sending shots at your wife and Armstrong
Sending
and how I was now ready to throw in the towel. He says, you know Elizabeth, A&R's don't know what they're talking about and I've heard your songs
I was in a van
A cold day in January stopped sliding by
They wanted to know
"where ya from? where ya heading?"
Just everything I knew which was
this poor boy's heart
By the look in his eyes he ain't cried in
years
And he's reatining a five gallon tear
Doc wrote a prescription to induce
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