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    To hell with that bogman shit, let's have some REAL Country Music music. Cookin' crystal meth cause that 'shine don't sell! Desert Eagles made by some bad-ass Hebrews!




    Sing along why dontcha!!!

    Strap them kids in
    Give 'em a little bit of vodka in a cherry coke
    We're going to Oklahoma to the family reunion for the first time in years
    It's up at uncle Slayton's cause he's getting on in years
    You know he no longer travels but he's still pretty spry
    He's not much on talking and he's just too mean to die
    And they'll be comin' down from Kansas
    And from west Arkansas
    It'll be one great big old party like you never saw

    Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
    Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
    He's got a Airstream trailer and a Holstein cow
    He still makes whiskey 'cause he still knows how
    He plats that Choctaw bingo every Friday night
    You know he had to leave Texas but he won't say why
    He owns a quarter section up by Lake Eufala
    Caught a great big ol' blue cat on a driftin' jug line
    Sells his hardwood timber to the shipping mill
    Cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
    He cooks that crystal meth because the shine don't sell
    You know he likes his money he don't mind the smell

    My cousin Roscoe Slayton's oldest boy from his second marriage up in Illinois
    He was raised in East St. Louis by his momma's people
    Where they do things different
    Thought he'd just come on down
    He was going to Dallas Texas in a semi truck called from that big McDonald's
    You know the one they built up on that great big ol' bridge
    Across the Will Rogers Turnpike
    Took the Big Cabin exit stopped and bought a couple of cartons of cigarettes
    At that Indian Smoke Shop with the big neon smoke rings
    In the Cherokee Nation hit Muskogee late that night
    Somebody ran a stoplight at the Shawnee Bypass
    Roscoe tried to miss 'em but he didn't quite

    Bob and Mae come up from little town
    Way down by lake Texoma where he coaches football
    They were two A champions now for two years running
    But he says they won't be this year no they won't be this year
    And he stopped off in Tushka at that "Pop's Knife and Gun" place
    Bought a SKS rifle and a couple a full cases of that steel core ammo
    With the berdan primers from some East bloc nation that no longer needs 'em
    And a Desert Eagle that's one great big ol' pistol
    I mean .50 caliber made by bad ass Hebrews
    And some surplus tracers for that old BAR of Slayton's
    Soon as it gets dark we're gonna have us a time
    We're gonna have us a time

    Ruth Ann and Lynn come down from Baxter Springs
    That's one hell raisin' town way up in Southeastern Kansas
    Got a biker bar next to the lingerie store
    That's got them Rolling Stones lips up there where everyone can see 'em
    And they burn all night you know they burn all night you know they burn all night

    Ruth Ann and Lynn they wear them cut off britches and those skinny little halters
    And they're second cousins to me
    Man I don't care I want to get between 'em
    With a great big ol' hard on like a old bois d' arc fence post
    You could hang a pipe rail gait from
    Do some twisted sisters 'til the cows come home
    And we'd be havin' us a time

    Uncle Slayton's got his Texan pride
    Back in the thickets with his Asian bride
    He's cut that corner pasture into acre lots'
    He sells 'em owner financed
    Strictly to them that's got no kind of credit 'cCause he knows they're slackers
    When they miss that payment
    Then he takes it back
    He plays that Choctaw Bingo every Friday night
    Drinks that Johnny Walker at that Club 69
    We're gonna strap them kids in give 'em a little bit o' Benadryl
    And a cherry coke we're goin' to Oklahoma Gonna have us a time
    Last edited by DrB0b; 12-06-2017 at 12:53 AM.
    don't you know there ain't no devil, there's just god when he's drunk

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    Last edited by DrB0b; 12-06-2017 at 01:55 AM.

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    Milk Carton Kids.


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    "Garth Brooks did for country music what panty hose did for finger fuckin"- Waylon Jennings

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    I like this better than the Johnny Cash version, Hank's got just the right voice for this.

    Early one mornin' while making the rounds
    I took a shot of cocaine and I shot my woman down
    Went right home and I went to bed
    I stuck that lovin' .44 beneath my head

    Got up next morning and I grabbed my gun
    I took a shot of cocaine and away I run
    Made a good run but I run too slow
    They overtook me down in Juarez Mexico

    I laid in the hot joint, takin' the pill
    In walked the Sheriff from Jericho Hill
    He said, “Willie Lee, your name is not Jack Brown
    You're the dirty hack that shot your woman down”

    Yes, oh yes, my name is Willie Lee
    If you've got a warrant just read it to me
    I shot her down 'cause she made me slow
    I thought I was her daddy but she had five more

    When I was arrested, I was dressed in black
    They put me on a train and they took me back
    I had no friend for to go my bail
    They slapped my doddered carcass in that county jail

    The next morning 'bout a half past nine
    I spied a Sheriff comin' down the line
    He kind of coughed as he cleared his throat
    He said, “Come on you dirty hack, to the district court”

    I entered the courtroom and my trial began
    Where I was held by twelve honest men
    Just before the jury started out
    I saw that dirty judge commence to look about

    In about five minutes, in walked a man
    Holding the verdict in his right hand
    The verdict read “In the first degree"
    I hollered, "Lordy, Lordy, have mercy on me”

    The judge smiled as he picked up his pen
    “Ninety-nine years in the Folsom State Pen”
    Ninety-nine years underneath that ground
    I can't forget the day I shot that bad bitch down

    Come on you've gotta listen up to me
    “Lay off that whiskey and let that cocaine be”

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    Blue Steel. Twist One Up.


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