Son of the South

Yeah, I'm the son of the South, blood crimson red (Yeah)

Blue jeans faded with grease stained hands (Yeah)

Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am (Yeah)

Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland

My homeland, yeah

Yeah, when the shit goes down

I'll be somewhere with a hundred thousand ought shot round

With a railroad car covered up in the ground

With a barbed wire fence wrapped all the way around my house

Four wheelers, dirt bikes, eighty model, high rise

Sniper's spitting beech nut from a hilltop rise

Yeah, motherfucker, everybody's on my team

Bikers, OG's, clan members and the police

And everybody's still figuring out what's on the news

And they do this shit on purpose

You ain't even got a clue

White lives, black lives, and the blue matter too

So point your gun across the sea

And let's just stand as a group

'Cause the got people tryna kill us

'Cause our fucking beliefs

And towel heads in the subway with a bomb in their briefs

So let's cut the bullshit and stand for all our people

And cut some motherfucking throats, let them bleed till we're equal

I'm the son of the South, blood crimson red

Blue jeans faded with grease stained hands

Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am

Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland

My homeland, yeah

Thunder bar running, I'm the man behind the curtain

Got a fuck you, I don't even know your attitude for certain

I'm just tryna find my purpose while the vultures fly around my head

Telling me the things I can do to darn prove myself

Friends falling off of the face of the Earth

'Cause they don't know how to act

That I made myself something

I'm unity busting, southern motherfucker for real

And I live by the home flag, die by the steel

Gunpowder and kerosene, grenades and pride

And if you tryna harm my country then you in for a ride

And we don't bury your bitches, we just throw you up in the fire

That's the smell of sweet freedom, USA till I die

I'm the son of the South, blood crimson red

Blue jeans faded with grease stained hands

Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am

Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland

My homeland, yeah

My homeland, my homeland, my homeland

(Yeah, my homeland, yeah, my homeland)

My homeland

(Yeah, my homeland, yeah, my homeland)

I'm the son of the South, blood crimson red

Blue jeans faded with grease stained hands (Yeah)

Scars on my knuckles and that's still who I am

Don't come over here disrespecting my homeland

(Yeah, my homeland)

My homeland