Follow my lead as ill lead thee
Ill not be cornered and made to eat shoveled shit
Every single scoop and yowl wear my spit
If you think that your special behind the chrome star
Once its taken off you wont get to far
I am the psychotic tracker who lives in the cypress stands
Roll out to the back woods at the end of the road
Its Marti Gras here where i abode
Walk out on my pier and feel the Creole stomp
out at my place in the water wood
i live off the grid with my douge T
Cooking sour mash with copper line bale
Out on the island burns the unending fire
Moonshine and fur pays my small bills no lying
no mind to what you'll say to the mason jars full of cop stars
narks stop out often but don't usually wait
Cypress wood makes great bait boxes its never too late
my pet is hungry and he'll wait patiently
he's not far from the pier just wait you'll see
So slide on out were usually around
Goldy "d" gator's hungry and he's eyeballing my hound
Moon-shining down silently
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