Snakeskin Boots

This here is a song about methamphetamine and killing people

A song about North-Texas where I grew up

Where I-35 goes into Oklahoma

At one point we were the number three methamphetamine county in the entire state

I guess you gotta be proud of something

Sun goes down, my cousin comes and gets me out off bed

Seen too many sunsets smelling like crystal meth

We be cooking on the back roads, on our grandpa's land

Everywhere my cousin went, he always looked his best

Had those pursed up shirts

And them snake-skin boots

And that .45 revolver he knew how to shoot

Because he'd been raised by Cherokee in Lone Grove, Oklahoma

Grandma took him 'cause his mama left

We finished the batch, my cousin, he'd haul it to Ardmore

He'd hustle and flow, get the most that he could for it

Two weeks went by my cousin never showed

Grandma called the police told them what he wore

Had that pursed up shirt

Snake-skin boots

And that .45 revolver he knew how to shoot

'Cause he'd been raised by Cherokee in Lone Grove, Oklahoma

Well, Grandma took him because his mama left

We found my cousin dead, he was floating in the Red River

Somebody robbed him, just to get their quiver

They shot him in the head, so I don't think it hurt

Know what we dressed him in when we dragged him into the dirt

He had that pursed up shirts

Snake-skin boots

And that .45 revolver he knew how to shoot

Because he'd been raised by Cherokee in Lone Grove, Oklahoma

Grandma took him because his mama left

Had that pursed up shirts

Snake-skin boots

.45 revolver he knew how to shoot

'Cause he'd been raised by Cherokee in Lone Grove, Oklahoma

Grandma took him 'cause his mama left

His mama left

His mama left