| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up a another cupa
|
| Sippin' on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| 12 gauge double barrel
|
| Loaded full of buckshot
|
| Brewin up that mountain dew
|
| It boilin like a crockpot
|
| Deep out in theese southern woods and
|
| Far away from evrything
|
| Out amongest the tombstones
|
| Cookin up that hurracain
|
| Take a sip for testin then'
|
| Pour a littlie on the ground
|
| Soak up in that goregia clay
|
| And now i’m waitin for the sound
|
| 150 year burried deep in the earths grip
|
| Soon there gonna dancein
|
| When that cool water hits there lips
|
| Made from the mill
|
| Out a feild cursed by whodo
|
| Water from a well
|
| Striaght outta hell
|
| Cursed by vodoo
|
| Stir it up cook it to the point that it evaporates
|
| 173 degrees born again
|
| The dead awake
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| 100 galleons of that right good top stock
|
| Ready for the shippin
|
| In a heavy chevy small block
|
| Foot to the floor
|
| Ridin mean like an out law
|
| Duckin dogein road blocks
|
| Like boxing with an south paw
|
| These dark and dusty roads
|
| Lite up by the full moon
|
| Comin round the corner
|
| Muffler soundin like a moonson
|
| I got the devils mean as demons
|
| Ridin shotgun
|
| Straped with a winchester
|
| Case they have to pop one
|
| We headin for the next county
|
| On the southin trail
|
| G man and revenue hot on me southern tail
|
| Hang out the window
|
| One blast with the buckshot
|
| Need get em off my ass so that i don’t get got
|
| Wild liter??, sugar wiskey, stump pole, skull cracker, alley bourbon, city gin,
|
| wildcat, block and tackle
|
| Its how we do it
|
| How we get it to the next level
|
| Have us huntin bitches down
|
| With pick axe and shovel
|
| Gone of that good shit
|
| Hit ya like a mule kick
|
| Pick a hater out the crowd
|
| And hit em with a pool stick
|
| Hulleonations seein shit
|
| Got ya climbin trees
|
| Passed out in a ditch
|
| Like a bitch down on ya knees
|
| Don’t even give a fuck
|
| When the spirts hit ya brain
|
| Four shots is all ya need
|
| Certified gone insane
|
| Lets get it crackalackin
|
| One more 'gain for the pimpin
|
| Take the jug
|
| And turn it up chug it down
|
| And start the sippin
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin on down
|
| Sippin around
|
| Tippin up another cupa
|
| Sippin on down |