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"Kuntry Folks" lyrics by BUBBA SPARXXX
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"Kuntry Folks"
[feat. Duddy Ken]

I might talk slow
But I'm feelin fine
Cause them kuntry folks sho can rhyme
Ain't got no ice
Cause without it I shine
And them kuntry folks sho can rhyme

Aw Hell,
They done let me loose
And I'm doin just what they thought I'd do
With a fifth of beam
And I ate a roll
Now I'm outta control
You should've brought me two
I scalded you
With them heated vocals
Don't you cross them weeded locals
Ridin neece [nice] on wall street
With a ball freak
N' it's all sweet
But y'all weak [week] it's
Monday through
Sunday ooh
Y'all dummies too?
Don't complain
Just know ya role
Bad ass lil playa be going on
I sold my soul
For a G advance
A Whitey Ford 'n' some Peter Pan
Now I'm broke again
With Duddy Ken
N' we out of gin
So I need a chance
Can't even dance
In the [?]
That time of night
Shinin' light
In the southern sky
Plus I'm high
Singing these tallboys' lullaby
I nullify their whole existence
In an instant
With no resistance
New Sparxxx? Bubba K
Don't know what to say
Cause I smoked him senseless
So defenseless, a baby goose
On the discovery channel
At 3am
Life is some ol' country bum
Betcha wanted fun
But we ain't them
Got all blazed
And I got with' Duddy
Jumped in made the water muddy
These kuntry folks sure can rhyme
It's our time
Keep snoozing buddy

I might talk slow
But I'm feelin fine
Cause them kuntry folks sho can rhyme
Ain't got no ice
Cause without it I shine
And them kuntry folks sho can rhyme
I smoke homegrown and I drank cheap wine
Cause them kuntry folks sho can rhyme
You can tell me to change, but you'd be wastin your time
Cause them kuntry folks sho can rhyme

I ain't got no hoe
No blow, no dough
But got a lot of game to spit at your hoe
Fleetwood cadillac four-door
Steppin out the back with a cream Polo
The Mack tight
With a bang for the act right
Boys on with my calls with my gat tight
Could'nt find a Phillie blunt better packed tight
Duddy Ken, blow like wind
Kuntry folks do kuntry things
Why ya'll gotta be knocking me
I'm on the thang to the fifth a'grain
Gittin foul blitzed
Inna bought Caprice
With a box of Sweets
Automatic from the static
Back seat beautiful chick with fat rabbits
We mark beats like a prodigy's habit
Yo style ain't shit
My swisher ain't fattest
Wanna get crunk
I'm a crank it up with ya
Wanna rap I'll git ya
D to the U double D Y Ken
Fakin rocksteady like the Wizards
With the gift to gab
Up in the lab
Choppin up track
Fo - fo mag (forty-four mag)
Playin the Chrome
As the spot wears on
Polo down, Versace long
It's real folk
Take care and heed
Please don't make me say it twice
A.T.L. GA baby
Ya'll lil niggas better play it rite
Now what it is
Tell me what it gonna be
How you gonna do it
Cus I'm down for dyin'
I'm a Georgia hog slash bulldog
Who might talk slow but shure can rhyme


[Thanks to Olio Masey (probablynot@gmail.com) for correcting these lyrics]

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