Lyrics:
Alabama
And I found mine down in Dixieland
I didn't die out in Montana, no Lord
You let me get back to my old homeland
And I'm gonna hold on to her hand
me
You're my Bonnie, I'm your Cyde, let's ride
The thought of you, girl, with another man is the thought
of me killing you with a gun in my hand
Call
of Alabama
Yeah, nothing against the crimson tide
I just need that girl here by my side
And I know if I get my way
Alabama's gonna be crying that day
Yeah,
I like them bars with the jukebox up an'
Backyards with them solo cups an'
Day drinkin' when it's half-past noon
But there ain't no party like my
I'm an Outlaw, give me two shots
We don't need a radio, bring the jukebox
For my outlaws, bring me three shots
We can raise hell before this beat
up my foreign ride with petroleum
I gotta ride oh boy, gotta bring the noise
Rent my car, gotta hit me a lick in Detroit
Some in Alabama, some down in
up my foreign ride with petroleum
I gotta ride oh boy, gotta bring the noise
Rent my car, gotta hit me a lick in Detroit
Some in Alabama, some down in
dead broke tomorrow morning,
With heart-aches by the dozen,
And a lady on my mind that's driving me crazy.
I've got two dollars in the jukebox,
And five
It's painted red, the stripe was white
It was eighteen feet from the bow to the stern light
Second hand from a dealer in Atlanta
I rode up with
Was painted red, the stripe was white
It was eighteen feet from the bow to the stern light
Second hand from a dealer in Atlanta
I rode up with
a scammer
She fuck with me cause I'm low key
I ran it up in Alabama
I got them hoes like I'm Santa
Ass wide panamera
Walk by got'em starring
Big watch see it
by my place
Thick ass bitch, said her name was Grace
She walked in the door workin' lace
You shoulda seen that look that was on my face
She's like
by my place
Thick ass bitch, said her name was Grace
She walked in the door workin' lace
You shoulda seen that look that was on my face
She's like
looking in your eyes while the Alabama sun sets in the West
Who whoulda guessed, that I'd be
Here lying by your side with my hands running through your
dead broke tomorrow morning,
With heart-aches by the dozen,
And a lady on my mind that's driving me crazy.
I've got two dollars in the jukebox,
And five
shit or hater shit, I'm not condoning (never)
See it in your eyes, all your love phony (21)
Stabbed me in my back and then he tried to bro me (21)
Sitting on the curb with your face in your hands again
Shame covered up by the smell of Malboro Reds
You said that last time, it'd be the last time
and grabbed my pistol
Stuck it in the fat man's back
Said open up the safe
And put your money in the sack
Then tied his hands behind him
And put a blindfolded
yourself, (ohh) by yourself (ohh)...
[Chorus] - 2X
Smoke by myself
Drink by myself
Poke these hoes by my goddamn self, for rrreal (By my goddamn self)
For
get ya hands up!
[MJG]
I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit,
so tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite
Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee
where the Frenchmen go
Dans le bistro
Dans le bistro
Down by the water
In the Saints-Pères café
See them talking in the corner
With their hands they will
the corner
With their hands they will say
It may get colder
But the franc it can't lose
Just drop it in a jukebox
Full of rhythm and blues
Just go
honey
Oh you're on your own
He said
Oh Susannah don't you cry for me
In Alabama's where I'm gonna be
But she said
No tears were shed
Found a man for my
Haaaaa, Yeeah
Woooh,aye
Geezy
(Fuck your producer my beat is by Meexhie)
Haaaaaaa
Marching with them bands, running up the check
Fuck the fame,I got
_(1).jpg/300px-JukeboxTheGhost_DIAL_Paste_CortneyArmitage126A09952016_(1)_(1).jpg "Jukebox the Ghost")
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