Lyrics of the Day, from Notes of a Native Song:
You can’t hate on a state
‘Cause no state’s all that bad nor all that great
There’s nice people and assholes everywhere
To judge ’em by the jury would be unfair
I met the nicest people you could meet
So I don’t blame y’all one single bit
But I know y’all know way better than me
Some folks down there are full of gator shit(Florida, Florida you kill me)
(Florida, Florida you kill me)Home of Stepin Fetchit and Ben Vereen
But hey nothing bad by that did I mean
I love All that Jazz and I love Pippin
But brothers your home state is straight up trippin’Cali gave us the Beach Boys and Charles Manson
Oklahoma gave us Leon Russell and Hanson
But I mean besides Cuban food what’s the point?
…Okay I admit fried gator tails are the joint
Your heat’s surprising and your fire aint’ nice
Y’all put Al Gore’s head in a Miami vice(Florida, Florida you kill me)
(Florida, Florida you kill me)When I turn in to an old jew
I will not retire in you
I’m staying in Brooklyn where the struggle is best
It don’t matter if the weather is great if I gotta wear a bullet-proof vest(Florida, Florida you kill me)
(Florida, Florida you kill me)Some places suck like a robot whore
Like a grave with a mouth the size of a killing floor
Yous silent screams and your noise annoys
Hanging chads and lynching boys
Hanging chads and lynching boys(Florida, Florida you kill me)
(Florida, Florida you kill me)
