francs, Frank With your swiss account is the way I bank-pank, at home I make bills Are brown from my sound in the States, green like the grass In the ground
the tree top high said "Oh you Kid" and winked his eye, and the green grass grew all around, all around, on the ground, with all your gold my turtle dove
more like somethin I cook with [Chorus: Black Milk - w/ ad libs] Yeah, cause it's that fire I see the smoke risin higher Hi-higher, hands to the sky
I've been feelin' down in Atlanta Immobile in Alabam I'd rather be in traction Than to be here where I am Oh, you Georgia red clay And green Virginia
more like somethin I cook with [Chorus: Black Milk - w/ ad libs] Yeah, cause it's that fire I see the smoke risin higher Hi-higher, hands to the sky,
like somethin I cook with [Chorus: Black Milk - w/ ad libs] Yeah, cause it's that fire I see the smoke risin higher Hi-higher, hands to the sky, up