|Great times are waiting, grab some buds!|
West Alabama born n' raised, in the jail cell is where I spent most of my days. Chillin' out, relaxin' all cool, shootin' some badgers outside the school, when a couple of guys up to some good started jackin' up my neighborhood. I shot one little cop and the police got scared and I moved with my auntie and uncle in that trailerpark across from the tracks. (didn't rhyme... darn)
Wood paneling, yo this is bad, sippin' Pabst Blue Ribbon out of a plastic champagne glass, is this what the folks of the deep south live like? Hmm, this might be alright. (that was the best part.)
I shot a couple squirrels and when the huntin' dog came near, he had fur and squirrel guts stuck to his ear. His dog tag said "Earl" and the lice in his beer. If anything I'd say this dog was rare, but yo bo, kick it to the trailer!
I drove up to the trailer about 7 or 8, yelled to the huntin' dog; "Yo Bo, smell ya later" I looked at my rotting 6-wheeled abode, I was finally there to sit on my shitty porch as the king of the lawn chair.
There, here's a really shitty poem that I just made up based on the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air theme.