Lyrics:
new
Raised on George Strait, Alan Jackson, and Pat Green
Learned how to pick from a VHS
Mama taught me how to sing
Sit out on the front porch
Standing by the gate in the crowd
No doubt there's some things I didn't do
But I wanted to
The toxic fumes, the bubblegum
The cracks in the sun
Oh
took my steed
And round the bend I saw my friend
Jackson Bailey Davis
Named after a horse
Held my father's shotgun
Typically kept above the fireplace
He
One, two, three, four
Here comes Santa in his sleigh
Those silver bells they sound so gay
His shiny sleigh is heaped with toys
To give to all good
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Hit my plug from cali it touch down on sum Bo Jackson Shit
Yea yea
Yeah bitch aint no point in stoppin it
Her pussy I been
and Ike’s
That shit hit like Mike Tyson’s right
My shit smack Joe Jackson Five
Prescriptions like its Mike and Ike’s
I can’t do no 9 to 5
Fuck a dike I might
I didn't think it meant
That you would come back, you're not my friend
But Jackson I told you I'm here till the end
I'm not leaving you, let's not
DOWN
SACRED BINDING
YOU AND I
BREATHING ALL WITHOUT A SOUND
I RAN AWAY BEFORE THE RAINBOW
BUT I WILL ALWAYS STAY BY YOUR SIDE
WITH EVERY MOMENT
by
(you'll see her banner flying high)
And when the grey go marching by
(you'll see her banner flying high)
CHORUS
you can let your cannons sound
You
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous 3 record, they call "Action"
When you hear me do it, you will be shocked and amazed
It's the brand new thing
fresh flow bringing back the 90's sound
I got a funky fresh flow bringing back the 90's sound
It's 2019 so you know it's goin down
I'm the new kid in town
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
I'm flyin' i'm usually high
Get my dick suck by a cutie pie
You sayin I ain't been the
Shit since junior high
You ain't got a truth in ya
Nigga you's
don't get hit by the bolt of lightning
Striking you down 'cause you're fronting
A dead leader can't tax your mind
Therefore he's not a threat to your
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
An open letter to the Rev. Jesse Jackson
We, the members of the Mojo family,
Feel that your actions and retoric as a self professed leader
Now
The easiest way to get into the meditative state
According to Alan Watts
Is to begin by listening
If you were to simply close your eyes
And allow
sound on it
Turn his face into a frown, homie (huh), oh, whoa
I just been shinin' in rose gold
We in the street like hobos (wavy)
I'm having boogers,
'em
I know y'all in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rappin records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
in the mood, just go with the flow
And I can play rapping records and all disco
Like "Beat It," "Billie Jean," by Michael Jackson
Or the Treacherous
of the town
So my soul can be surrounded by the sound
Of the footsteps on ground
And I'm connected to folks
I spent my life neglecting
And that was all he wrote
Brown
At the top of this shit, you know I will come down
Shhh, killin' these niggas, no sound
Top a nigga, head to collar, I'm around
Drop a nigga, boom,
wilzzo-izzo-zee
Yo, straight up Missy killed that shit tonight for real
Ooh, I know, I know
I don't really care about her being pregnant by Michael Jackson
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