not a rapper I talk alot

the liberal redneck intersection we really the mf slums my nigga why you think ya mf oven goes first rats an rodents are placed in are mf ecology we all change some sooner than later that white bitch an crack all up an down the globe extermating black life that bitch just wants your pumpkin seeds get out nigga get out scout quickly they want what were taught to be repetitive wet plate cameras existed in. the the sixtys all history got is the now its always been us an we the last ones left nigga we was not meant to survive they didnt was us to arrive alive nigga told me I was supposed to have been dead a long time ago thats a mf mouth full to be lying so you know anything that extreme was mf said but wasn't considering i would remember In the backwoods where the rebel hearts roam, Got a truck full of dreams, yeah, we call it home, Flannel shirts, tattoos, we break the mold, Mixing Southern charm with a story that's bold. Got a shotgun seat for the ones who feel lost, Raising hell at the crossroads, no matter the cost, Flip the script on the norm, we redefine the grind, With a fire in our souls, leaving doubts far behind. From the city to the county, we bridge the divide, In this redneck revolution, we take it in stride, Got the wisdom of the ages mixed with modern flair, Living loud and proud, ain't no room for despair. So we gather 'round the fire, share our truths and dreams, With a blend of our voices, hear the echoing screams, In the heart of the struggle, we find our connection, In this liberal redneck intersection, pure perfection.