KNOW WHEN TO ⚡ (BOLT) - COUNTRY LUNATIC - #countryrap #bassboosted

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what my Gambler remix turned into

Know when to ⚡(BOLT)

Ayy, ayy, ayy
Swamp hustler’s game, schemin’ in the mud, ayy
Dirty thug life, spillin’ rebel blood, ayy
On a moonless night, in a rusted-out skiff,
Met an old swamp hustler, breathin’ heavy, lookin’ stiff.
Sippin’ on his moonshine, eyes like gator’s glow,
Said, “Boy, you look like trouble, let me tell you what I know.”
He passed me his jug, said, “Take a pull, don’t choke,”
Lit a soggy blunt, in the haze of swamp smoke.
“Life’s a crooked game, and the deck’s always stacked,
Gotta play your hand, ‘fore the devil calls you back.”
He leaned in close, with a grin full of scars,
“Cracker, listen up, ‘cause this world ain’t got no stars.
Every move’s a gamble, every breath’s a roll,
Swamp’ll eat your dreams, if you don’t keep control.
You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to creep through the swamp, know when to bolt, son.
Ain’t no time for prayin’ when the gators start to close,
Play the hand you’re dealt, ‘til the bayou claims your ghost.
The swamp hustler’s creed, out here where the dead roam,
Find your moment to shine, or you’re never goin’ home.
He said, “I’ve slung shine, dodged the law’s cold grip,
Lost my kin to the bottle, watched my whole life slip.
Seen fools chase the money, seen ‘em drown in the shine,
But the ones who make it know to read the swamp’s design.”
“Hold your .45 tight, when the shadows start to creep,
Fold your heart away, ‘cause love’s a wound too deep.
Creep when the feds are near, bolt when the deal goes south,
Keep your blade in hand, and your lies in your mouth.”
His eyes went dim, as the fog rolled in thick,
Dropped his jug in the mud, said, “Boy, learn this quick.”
Then he faded in the dark, like a ghost in the mire,
Left me with his words, and a soul set on fire.
You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em,
Know when to creep through the swamp, know when to bolt, son.
Ain’t no time for prayin’ when the gators start to close,
Play the hand you’re dealt, ‘til the bayou claims your ghost.
The swamp hustler’s creed, out here where the dead roam,
Find your moment to shine, or you’re never goin’ home.
Skoal in my jaw, spittin’ black in the stream,
Swamp’s my dealer, dealin’ death in my dreams.
Every scar’s a lesson, every loss a hard truth,
Cracker thug grindin’, dodgin’ fate like a sleuth.
Ayy, ayy, dirty thug, let the bayou’s dice roll,
Swamp hustler’s wisdom, carved deep in my soul.Outro
Somewhere in the swamp, where the moonlight don’t break,
I’m driftin’ with his words, for my own damn sake.
Gator’s teeth flash, as the night turns cold,
White boy gangster, playin’ cards ‘til I fold.
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Swamp hustler’s game, bleedin’ in the mud, ayy
Dirty thug life, spillin’ rebel blood, ayy

Country lunatic bitchhhh..


Country Lunatic

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