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Bible Belt
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Yelawolf
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1
Welcome to the Wolf cave!
2
YelaWolf!
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Me my man, Ben Hameen
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She gave, Alabama Connect
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Oh, you wanna know about the south?
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Ok, play them the Dirty South
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Welcome home then
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Welcome to the cold hard truth: Bama
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Dead Native Americans spirits swarm through the foothills
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And whisper through the weeping willows.
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It moves like a water rapid dancing through your meadows
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Diming lights from thick fog and gravel paths
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Footprints of a ghost in the wet grass
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That lead into invisible prison cells past
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The weird rust is symbolic of the blood bath
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Just take a look
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The younger generations are committing the worst crimes
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They lost in a tangle of evident guidelines
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Controlled by the unseen and claim one king
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And worship a image despite lies and covered schemes
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The halt puts a chill in the midnight breeze
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Scavengers on the hunt get whatever is free
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The breath of the devil throwing metal debris at lost sons
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Caught in the wilderness of the south you better
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Run for the ditch, there's locusts in the sky
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Hide in the cellar, propellers are humming by
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In the Bible Belt
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In the Bible Belt
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Freight trains shaking the walls and taking lives,
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Stain glass breaking, the steeple's on fire
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In the Bible Belt
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In the Bible Belt
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Welcome to my land, my home: Bama
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Where the clouds turn green,
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Where The Clan marches up and down the small town streets
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Where cops look for excitement
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Where the oak tree split and burn form the blue lightning
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Where the plantation still stands as an undying reminder
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Where the Rebel flag waves as an undying reminder
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Some try to find there way out
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It ain't easy
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The economy's bad and most searching for a freebie
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In fact, hustlers of every color stay lookin' for the cracks, and loopholes,
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They stoop low and do jacks
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With new clothes and shoes.
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Hoes, they turn tricks
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And follow each-other cause momma just don't give a shit
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See black lights and incense they feel roused
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Cause no church can soul search like mushrooms,
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So young minds, they do lines to feel numb.
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Like a thick black cloud of smoke is drifting over the evergreens
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The air we breathe ain't safe no more momma.
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Naw
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They polluted the whole city mamma.
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The whole city is
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Filled with thoughts, education, and short dreams.
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The youth dying to live be all it seems
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To be all that we have momma,
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But I ain't throwin' up my hands momma.
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No I an't throwin' up my hands
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To many grand schemes I must speak
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To get free in my mind.
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If I can free my body
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Then I write my song alone in the seas,
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And put a message in the bottle
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For the broken seas to reach everybody.
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I know it's impossible,
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But I hope these words convey to hit one soul
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To eternally echo through my home and known
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With the roots of a child with a son that ain't done.
Yelawolf - Best Friend ft. Eminem
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