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Times they ain’t like nothing they used to be From Rocky Mount to northeast Tennessee Where the river flows with a dusty cold disease And the babies whine 'cause they can't find nothing to eat But mama she ain't hungry no more She's waitin’ for a knock on the trailer door It’s gonna rock you like a hurricane It’s gonna rock you 'til you lose sleep It’s gonna rock you 'til you're out of a job It’s gonna rock you 'til you're out on the street It’s gonna rock you 'til you're down on your knees It’s gonna have you begging pretty please It’s gonna rock you like a hurricane Methamphetamine... Don't need no PHD for a hundred-dollar car Just find a crooked cop and that doctor disregard ’Cause when it’s either the mine or the Kentucky National Guard Mmm, I'd rather sell them a line than be dyin' in the coal yard Now papa he ain’t hungry no more He's waitin’ for a knock on the trailer door Well it's a war out there and it's fought by poor white men From the plateau to the falls of the Cumberland You better watch your back ‘cause you just can't trust a friend Ooh, and the method man is gonna get you in the end So listen to the whispering wind It sounds like a big storm rolling in |
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