| Georgia, My state my home
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| For 17 years learned right from wrong
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| Cried saline tears when I write these poems
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| As I made these fears give flight to song
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| The red clay stains the soles of my shoes
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| The red clay stained the soul of a fool
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| My grandparents told me the goal that you choose
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| When you realize the worlds only open to few
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| Will measure your worth, tether your hurt
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| It’s that same search that can lead you to church
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| But if they have the time to hate a whole race
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| How do y’all have the mind to tell me about my faith?
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| Do y’all have time to discuss God’s grace
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| If you’re too busy studying the color of a face?
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| I don’t follow man to avoid the disgrace of
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| The close-minded culprits of southern mistakes
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| Glass houses built out of empty Coke bottles
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| Throwing rocks at statues of southern role models
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| Use to be followed by souls that are hollow
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| But had too much love to ever get swallowed
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| By the dark-hearted people that threatened my kin
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| Spit on my friends for the color of their skin
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| So when I think back to the clay that raised me
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| I thank God for the strong man it made me
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| Georgia (x2)
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| The clay is running red from the blood that done been shed down in (Georgia)
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| Now we weeping to the sound from the color of the ground down in (Georgia)
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| Yo, I’m not talking about a state
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| I’m talking about a state my life was lived in
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| Some years ago, when this pain was fresh on me
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| I couldn’t did this verse, know what I’m saying?
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| But I can do it for y’all now
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| (Georgia)
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| Lee Andrews, raised a man wearing dad’s pants plus her shoes
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| Never wavered in faith in her loving embrace
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| That Garnett Lamar Bush would find a way to be great
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| Even after plenty meals off juvie hall plates
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| Calls at prison rates, pushed back release dates
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| Only to come home to mere months of your smile
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| While the nigga you married to give me a dad behave foul
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| Your massive stroke one of luck for him
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| Kept the house, bought a car and a truck for him
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| Loved my brother too much to go and orphan him
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| So his daddy walks this earth, the only man I hate
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| With the bitch he moved in a week after your wake
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| Sure as Georgia birthed me, in Kentucky my state
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| Seem empty, without you holding your grandson
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| Who smiles at your picture, not a tooth in his mouth
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| So handsome, you’da had him like milk left out
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| You’da swore I had asthma as my breath came out
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| Missing you, feeling like the Lord did me bad
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| But somewhat greater later when he made me dad
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| Bittersweet symphony simply played in my pain
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| Encored by the tears that I strain to contain
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| But sometimes I can’t help it, sometimes I’m so selfish
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| Feeling like God don’t love you like I do
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| (Georgia) |