Paroles Son of the south Upchurch

Son of the south

Yeah I'm the son of the south, blood crimson red
Blue jeans faded with the grease-stained hands
Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am
Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland
My homeland, yeah

Yeah, when the shit goes down
I'll be somewhere with a hundred thousand [?] shot rounds
With a railroad car coming up in the ground
With the blah blah fence wrapped all the way around my house
Boom, with this dirt bike [?] mile high rise
Snipers spitting beech nut from a hill-top [?]
See, motherfucker, everybody's on my team
Bikers, OGs, Klan members and the police
And everybody's still figuring out what's on the news
And they do this shit on purpose who ain't even got a clue
White lives, black lives, and the blue matter too
So point your gun across the sea and let's just stand as a group
'Cause they got people trying to kill us 'cause of our fucking beliefs
And towelheads in the subway with a bomb in their briefs
So let's cut the bullshit and stand for all our people
And cut some motherfucking throats, let them bleed till we're evil
I'm the son of the south, blood crimson red
Blue jeans faded with the grease-stained hands
Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am
Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland
My homeland, yeah

[?] I'm the man behind the curtain
Gotta fuck you, I don't even know you attitude for certain
I'm just trying to find my purpose while the vulture's flying round my head
Telling me the things I can do to [?] myself
Friends falling off from the face of the Earth
'Cause they don't know how to act that I made myself some
I'm [?] the motherfucker for real
And I live by the home flag, die by the steel
[?] kerosene, grenades and pride
And if you're trying to harm my country then you're in for a ride
And we don't bury you bitches we just throw you up in the fire
That's the smell of sweet freedom, USA till I die

I'm the son of the south, blood crimson red
Blue jeans faded with the grease-stained hands
Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am
Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland
My homeland, yeah

My homeland, my homeland, my homeland
My homeland

I'm the son of the south, blood crimson red
Blue jeans faded with the grease-stained hands
Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am
Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland
My homeland, my homeland