I AM WHAT I AM 2 - COUNTRY LUNATIC #whiteboy

Подробнее о видео

COUNTRY LUNATIC
F.O.W.B INDEPENDENT RECORDS
LUNATIC NATION

All music in this video is original and owned by me. I hold full commercial rights to distribute, monetize, and promote this content across all platforms. No copyrighted material was used without permission.
#whiteboy #fairytales #lunaticnation #lunaticnation4life

LYRICS

They said, “You racist?”
Maybe I am… I’m just raised in a place where pride’s a fuckin’ weapon.
And I ain’t never gonna trade my blood for your acceptance.
So yeah… I am what I am.
And if that bothers you… step the fuck up.

I ain’t built for beggin’, I ain’t bred for peace,
I was forged in a shack where the dogs don’t eat.
Where the floor got holes and the air got mold,
And your friends turn snitch when the product gets sold.
I done bled in the trap, I done prayed with a gauge,
Put my faith in a pistol, not a preacher’s page.
They call it hate when a man stand proud,
But I’m still ten toes in this death-row crowd.
I don’t fuck with the media, don’t fuck with the script,
I’m the outlaw ghost in the pigskin grip.
I done seen what the courts call “justice” mean,
It’s a rope for a white boy born too lean.
So when they come with their questions and clickbait cam —
I say, “Yeah, I’m racist — and I don’t give a damn.”

I ain’t foldin’, I ain’t runnin’, I ain’t kissin’ no rings,
I’m the voice of the broke with a bullet that sings.
Country born, but I thug like a man,
They asked if I’m racist? Bitch — I am.
Not from hate, but 'cause I love my kin,
And I’ll die ‘fore I bow or blend my skin.
You don’t like that? Better draw your line,
'Cause I’ll stand on mine every fuckin’ time.

My mama smoked rocks in the same damn room
Where I loaded my first clip, aimed, went boom.
Ain’t no fairy tales, ain’t no white knight dream,
Just felons and fiends and a .223.
I ain't never been hired, ain't never been heard,
So I tattooed my truth in a ten word.
w-h-i-t-e “p-r-i-d-e” cross my neck in blood,
‘Cause the world only love you when they own your name.
They preach about peace while they rob your place,
While they poison your kids and erase your race.
But I ain’t here to beg for a space to stand —
I’ll carve my own lane with a goddamn hand.
So when they ask again, all smug and bland —
“Are you racist?” Yeah. I fuckin’ am.

I ain’t foldin’, I ain’t runnin’, I ain’t kissin’ no rings,
I’m the voice of the broke with a bullet that sings.
Country born, but I thug like a man,
They asked if I’m racist? Bitch — I am.
Not from hate, but 'cause I love my kin,
And I’ll die ‘fore I bow or blend my skin.
You don’t like that? Better draw your line,
'Cause I’ll stand on mine every fuckin’ time.

You don’t know what pride is
Until they try to rip it from your throat.
You don’t know what loyalty is
Till you the last man alive still screamin’ for home.

I got dirt in my lungs, got gunpowder breath,
I done danced with the devil in a meth-head death.
I ain’t askin’ for peace, I’m demandin’ my spot,
Where the pain never stops and the heat stay hot.
I’m the blueprint of every man they fear,
With a flag on my chest and a switchblade ear.
Still cookin’ that work in the woods, no shame,
Still blastin’ that pride like propane flame.
So if you stand against me, you better stand armed —
‘Cause I ain’t no blogger, I bring real harm.
And when they quote my name with a headline scam —
Just write it bold: “Yeah. He fuckin’ am.”

I ain’t foldin’, I ain’t runnin’, I ain’t kissin’ no rings,
I’m the voice of the broke with a bullet that sings.
Country born, but I thug like a man,
They asked if I’m racist? Bitch — I am.
Not from hate, but 'cause I love my kin,
And I’ll die ‘fore I bow or blend my skin.
You don’t like that? Better draw your line,
'Cause I’ll stand on mine every fuckin’ time.

I was raised by wolves in a rusted shed,
Where the corn liquor cooked and the strong bled red.
Ain’t no guilt in my skin, ain’t no shame in my flag,
I ain’t kneelin' for shit but to zip a body bag.
Granny had swastikas carved in the wood,
Not for hate — just 'cause pain misunderstood.
They twist every word just to sell that fear,
While they poison our kids with a drag queen queer.
I ain't marchin' for nothin', I ain’t flippin’ no signs,
I’m just loadin’ these rounds and readin' old rhymes.
This ain't privilege, bitch, it’s trauma and chains,
And the bloodline burned in the court’s disdain.
Say it loud for the folks in the scam:
They asked me if I’m racist? Yeah bitch, I am....

I don’t explain what’s in my blood.
I live it, I bleed it, I die by it.
I am what the fuck I am…
And I ain’t never been sorry.