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I am the bullgod...I am free...and I feed on all that is forsaken |
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I'm gonna get you....I see through you...I'm gonna get you |
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I'm like a train I roll hard...lettin' off much steam |
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In the Carhart flannel and dusty jeans baby |
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I never was cool with James Dean |
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But I be hanging tough with my man Jim Beam |
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I swing low like a chimp |
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Back in '86 man I was seein' a shrink |
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But now I'm humble and I can only think |
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About New Orleans and those jumbo shrimp |
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So ask no questions and I'll tell no lies |
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I got big ol' pupils and blood shot eyes |
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I'm on the brink if you know what I mean |
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And a 12 step program couldn't keep me clean |
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'Cause I'm the bullgod...you understand |
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The illegitimate son of man |
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The T-O-P to the D-O-G |
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Or the P-O-T to the G-O-D |
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And I'm trippin' |
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Said I'm trippin' |
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I am the bullgod...I am free...and I feed on all that is forsaken |
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I'm gonna get you...I see through you...I'm gonna get you |
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A lot of people poke fun and that's alright |
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But when I start pokin' back they get all uptight |
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You can't cap with the master son |
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So sit your ass down before I blast ya one |
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Cause I'm so greasy you can call me mud |
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And I feel a little Hank runnin' through my blood |
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I wanna flood the world with my twisted thoughts |
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You can bet all day but I can't be bought |
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Uh Break it up let's tie one on |
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I gotta get set to go and cut the lawn |
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So I grab my walkman but before I cut |
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I got behind the garage and fire it up |
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Cause I'm the bullgod...you understand |
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The illegitimate son of man |
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The T-O-P to the D-O-G |
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Or the P-O-T to the G-O-D |
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And I'm trippin' |
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Said I'm trippin' |
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I am the bullgod...I am free...and I feed on all that is forsaken |
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I'm forsaken yeah |
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I ain't nothing |
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Yeah yeah yeah yeah |
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Come on get 'em up |
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Come on get 'em up |
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Come on get 'em up |
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I am the bullgod...I am free...and I feed on all that is forsaken |
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I am the bullgod...I am free...and I feed on all that is |
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I get a feeling of peace, from a low so high |
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As I sit in my chair and watch life go by |
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These thoughts I have can't mold to sense |
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Through the forest of my mind, they're all past tense |
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Born and raised in the outer lands |
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And at times you can say I'm outta hand |
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I'm in a band of gypsies, we're on the run |
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Everytime that paper hits my tongue |
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And sometimes it seems so odd |
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When my veins are popping and I'm on the nod |
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I am the bullgod...you understand |
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And here in my head is my master plan |
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Uh I'm gonna get you |
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I see through you |
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I'm gonna get you |
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I see through you |
