There?s a honky-tonk just south of Georgia Little salvation just a-waitin? for ya I heard it said a long time ago, if you're lookin? for your soul Down
I don't read the paper, I don't watch the news Life's good in this small town, population 62 Our bank ain't been held-up since 1932 Our doors are always
I don't mind another guy fucking with my girl If he does, she can get the hell out of my world Get it into your head, all your morals are dead I'm your
So now everybody's gone You see no change has come In every song you've ever sung You find the words were wrong But now the time is gonna come And there
on, come on, one (Chorus: Marc Live) Yo, yo, yo motherfuckers can't fuck with this, realness Seventh sin deadly, raise the key to rock steady Run son
number than numb Empty ya pockets son, they got you thinkin' that What ya need is what they selling Make you think that buying is rebelling From the
Hate him or love him for the same reason Can't leave it, the game needs him Plus the people need someone to believe in So in God's Son we trust 'Cause
to God that we all get let it/ I'm a count my blessings and pray that these haters ain't disrespecting/ Ain't ever no questions/ If we gotta rebel and
I've already knew It took me 33 years for me to see the truth Ever so clear I was too young I couldn't articulate myself the right way son But now let
ten) Right before the fun was about to begin Yo yo, one bitten jabberjaws tryin' to taste the Paper written kids be bullshittin' I see they flaws Too many rebels
dog my narrative fearless Word War returns to burn like Baldwin home from Paris Like steel from a furnace, I was born landless Yes, it's the native son
Son of the morning, highest of all You had so much going till you took the fall Had a place in the glory but you wanted it all Impossible odds but you
Chorus I get up, I see the clouds from my window, I pray the sun don't shine this way And where I go is the wind blow, momma your son gon' find his way
hearts Deep passions, clueless frustrations Rebel sons and hell breaking loose When it was time to face it in the eye Say, son, what you gotta do? Find
Backwoods killer from a river town A mixed up kid that let his hair hang down High school rebel, he's always been bad And his poor old man's still wond
't seen no money yet. Trash rappers I tax and spark, I be wettin' niggas up like water rides at Action Park. A nigga stuck me, and that ain't funny son
Is livin' on the D-low The galactic traveler eternal explorer Like the invincible master agent, a true warrior Neither here nor there, the master of illusion My son