Throw Away - Boondox, Jamie Madrox

A side of whisky, feelin frisky, all the wisdom

Wishin that a motherfucker would diss me while I’m tipsy

I’m a gypsy with a pissy attitude

And my latitude is only 6 degrees from bad mood

I’m not a bad dude, just scruffy beard and tattoos

And my bad views might seem a little too taboo

They only hate me cause my mind’s in the gutter

For my filthy fuckin mouth, apologies to my mother

For my filthy fuckin flow, no apologies needed

For my roots planted in the red clay, deep-seated

Yeah I’m heated with a middle finger pointed at the burbs

Preacher speakin to the heathens only using two words

Fuck you!

Oh, I’m just confused

And I’ve been used up and thrown away by the world you love again

Oh, I’m just like you

And I always seem to lose all the games I play

With the world you love but I’ll never love that way

I got welts from bible belts and closed fists

And they wonder why the hell that I’m so pissed

And off my rocker like my papa with a twelve gauge

Rock salt, poppin ass, some junkie in a driveway

Doin it my way, «Fuck em», my philosophy

Swingin mahogany at bastards with apostrophes

A trailer park heart, Christian in the cul-de-sac

White trash delinquent and lookin for a skull to crack

I use a pen, it’s just like minutes on a TracFone

Confessin, I’m sick of motherfuckers with no back bone

I’m not alone, got an army full of heathens

They was raised like me and they feelin how I’m feelin

Oh, I’m just confused

And I’ve been used up and thrown away by the world you love again

Oh, I’m just like you

And I always seem to lose all the games I play

With the world you love but I’ll never love that way

No B.C.

for me please, I’m okay

I see things differently since 08'

I might give a fuck, just quit giving a fuck

If you ain’t like the shit I spit then you is shit outta luck

I might get outta truck with the m2 benelli

Buck shot to the belly, through your fuckin pelle pelle

I’m a silly hillbilly with a mental condition

A backwoods devil, 7th son of perdition

A southern tradition, Boondox the scarecrow

Georgia to the bone, wicked to the marrow

The King of Heathen’s keeps on fiendin for a reason

Murder in the sky, it’s the season of the demon

Oh, I’m just confused

And I’ve been used up and thrown away by the world you love again

Oh, I’m just like you

And I always seem to lose all the games I play

With the world you love but I’ll never love that way