This is the last cowboy song The end of a hundred year Waltz The voices sound sad as they're singin' along Another piece of America's lost He rides the feed lots, clerks in the markets On weekends sellin' tobacco and beer And his dreams of tomorrow,

I see you with it, I'm with it, my nigga, let's get it This bankroll got hundreds and fifties All too familiar, admit it, I'm truly committed My palms consistently itching Served out the kitchen, relentless, we chasing these Benjis Back to back Maybachs

Feels like my life is ready to blow Me and my love we'll take it slow I hope she knows that I'll love her long I just don't know where the hell I belong She remembers my name How optimism led me astray Two hundred things I took the wrong way But I saw

Baby sweet baby Here I am I'm knowing Won't you please Come on back home to me I've been so lonely These few days feel like A hundred years How you make me worry baby How you make me worry about you

Whether we like it or not The best I can tell The world’s gone to hell I gotta hundred dollar bill You can keep your pills, friend Well, it’s all going to pot And we’re all gonna miss it a lot All the whiskey in Lynchburg, Tennessee Just couldn't hit the

Maybe I can change your mind Soon as you walk out my door I'm gonna call a hundred times I'm not one of those crazy girls Now I'm one of those crazy girls Baby, are we really over now? Now when you say you wanna slow down Does it mean you wanna slow

We only said goodbye with words I died a hundred times You go back to her And I go back to I go back to He left no time to regret Kept his dick wet With his same old safe bet

Run up the money, then count up the commas And go get the money lil' bitch (Money, lil' bitch) Hundred round drum on the Glock These bitches be suckin' and swallowin' dick I swear I can't trust 'em for shit (Trust 'em for shit) Know that's a dusty lil'

(Gon' getchya, gon' shake ya) Hump de bump doop bodu Bump de hump doop bodu Bump de hump doop bop Hump de bump doop bop It must have been a hundred miles It's not about the smile you wear but The way we make out

Choppa won't miss a nigga Hundred round drum killin' everybody Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew, pew! Yeah! We ain't wasting no time (Yo Pi'erre, you wanna come out here?) Splat, splat, splat, woo! She hop on the dick and she split Hop on my dick like a bitch