I sold my first joint in my sixteenth year The same time Baker got elected sheriff around here The county clerk must've thought it weird How far the ballot box was off
In the Ozark hills, in the country of God We know the kinda money prohibition brought When Reagan made his war on pot He made outlaws of us all
Well, I stole heirloom seeds from Humboldt soil Maui-Wowie, Diesel, and the Cali Gold The White Widow's the best I'm told For the hills of Arkansas
And ten miles from any blacktop road On a couple hidden acres with a mobile home A short way away from where the sheriff was born I started my first grow
20-watt bulbs and styrofoam Bush-hog, shovels, and a mile of hose They warned me at the hardware store They said, "The law knows what hippies grow"
But haulin' chicken shit in my junked out truck I would sell anything for a greasy buck I'm Sam Walton, I'm JB Hunt I'm a job creator, I'm a dangerous one
Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round? A good man murdered, a bad man drowned The cops are all moonshiners now But the money grows on trees Yeah, the money grows on trees
I met Sheriff Baker in the White River basin Starin' down the barrel of his Smith and Wesson He cuffed me up, he took me in I figured I would fry
But a Huntsville jail is no place for me Two days later, they let me go free The sheriff said from now on he'd be takin' a piece Like the old days of moonshine A dollar for every dime
And that sheriff was no flattop pig A knife in his boot, a nine on his hip An outlaw biker with a Mongol stitch Known wide and thought of well
So I knew I'd have to pay that man off good There were long-haired hippies all over these woods But none had the firepower I would With a lawman on my side
So I mouthed off the things I know How you kill the male plants so the flowers can grow I sent that sheriff on midday raids To rob and steal and confiscate Every bit of that green gold
And I grew own my sticky bud full of pine and loam My purple-haired baby, my lover, my own I'm a lost boy from a good home I'm a Booger County CEO
Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round? A good man murdered, a bad man drowned The cops are all moonshiners now But the money grows on trees
My first deal went through USPS And all the money came in as a cashier's check I thought twelve grand was the best it would get Oh boy, I did not know
But money grows greed, and greed grows wrath Ten flour sacks full of weed and cash Sheriff Baker robbed me of half my stash Left his tracks for me to find
Will you guard your pride, will you risk your life? Will you clasp your hands, and blow on the dice? Prison on the table, I just let it ride But I swore I wouldn't let him fool me twice
A long haul drive with a cocaine grin A horse trailer full of my finest blend I struck a new deal with Armenians And the payout went sky-high Ten dollars for every dime
In the Kings River valley with those very same caves That hid Cole Younger and Jessie James I couldn't spend all the money we made I buried a million presidents
Fifty G's in my sleeve like a stone-cold killer In a plantation house with a great big cellar I was throwin' up dirt with big diesel tillers For a few hundred more pounds
And Sheriff Baker bought up all the land he could get And a black Mustang and a red Corvette The bigger we got, the bigger our heads Of course somebody came for it
Yeah, the DEA put eyes in the sky So we grew hydroponics in the cellar inside We sat outside, and watched the planes fly by 'Cause we were too damn big to fail With the sheriff throwin' 'em off our trail
And you can lose your head, and you can curse your luck But the federales got a warrant for us Too bad that house got lightning struck What a wild-ass act of God Yeah, we were wild-ass actin' gods
Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round? A good man murdered, a bad man drowned The cops are all moonshiners now But the money grows on trees Yeah, the money grows on trees
I went back to that farm in the dead of the night To dig up the money that I never did find I had a good grow for the last time I got caught red-handed on the mountain side
And the rich get richer, that's just how it goes They can poison us with pills and GMOs But I did a ten year bid for a little smoke Because a poor man can't get high Because it ain't white collar crime
And I got out, but I never pissed clean I kept slingin' stuff on the low and lean Till Baker's side piece young Billy Jean She was gonna sell us out
And there's things your whisper ear to ear Billy Jean up and disappeared Ya better button your lip, buddy, keep it sealed Take the truth down to your grave
Sheriff Baker got low as a man can get Methamphetamines and a pile of debt Kid a suicide and his wife just left He said he wanted the end of it And I guess I could see why
'Cause all the Hell's Angels wanted our heads For handshake deals and cash for sex When I found his body, he was long dead Dredged up by the riverside Drowned or murdered, I can't decide
Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round? A good man murdered, a bad man drowned The cops are all moonshiners now But the money grows on trees Yeah, the money grows on trees
It's too damn much, this county's changed There's no good end to the outlaw way Nobody hires felons, so I can't go straight I wanna end it all myself today
So robbed a Wally World off of MLK And I'm waitin' for the cops to come take me away Can't ya see the blue lights comin'? Hey, they won't take me alive
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust I'll leave in a bodybag but not in cuffs If it sends my soul to hell Won't you tell my story well?
Oh, hippies, hillbillies, won't you gather 'round? A good man murdered, a bad man drowned The cops are all moonshiners now But the money grows on trees The money grows on trees
Won't you bury me in the rocky ground Where the money grows on trees?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
