Text
[Verse]
Mud on the tires, that swamp in my soul,
Hustle in the air, crawfish in the bowl.
Candy paint drippin', syrup in my cup,
Time movin' slower, but the grind speedin' up.
Chain swing heavy, feelin' like a yoke,
Backroads bumpy, but the dream ain't broke.
Gators in the ditch, snakes in the grass,
Gas station blues, still I'm built to last.
[Chorus]
Swamp gold, yeah, it's deep in my veins,
Bassline thumpin', shakin' windowpanes.
From the dirt roads to the city block,
Swamp gold, baby, can't stop, won't stop.
[Verse 2]
Pecan pie sweet, but the hustle bitters,
Crawlin' like a 'Lac with them chrome-spoked spinners.
Mosquito hum buzzin', mixin' with the beat,
Sweat drip slow, but the rhymes come heat.
Camo cap low, smell of pine and smoke,
Bourbon in the jar, every sip provoke.
Magnolia dreams with a bayou twist,
Every bar carved from a southern mist.
[Chorus]
Swamp gold, yeah, it's deep in my veins,
Bassline thumpin', shakin' windowpanes.
From the dirt roads to the city block,
Swamp gold, baby, can't stop, won't stop.
Musikstil
featuring drawling delivery and trunk-rattling 808s, with chopped and screwed elements, gritty, rap, southern rap, bass-heavy