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Rattlesnake - John Brim



     
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Rattlesnake Lyrics


For weeks your falling, that's my darling Sawing you in two, using me, using you Hear them calling drawing you back What can you do? Watch out Mack, here's a rat Falling off the track, fade out black Black in feedback, hit the flashback Don't you know we hate that? Your a rattlesnake And your full of shit Your a rattlesnake Fuck that shit, I don't wanna hear it Your a rattlesnake I hate your band, you understand? You can't bare it when we blare it Well you come you can, come come true You got no passion, it's all fashion Calm down, flames red or blue You don't know, you got no clue Your a rattlesnake I see through And your full of shit You said you know us, we don't know you I fuckin hate you Your a rattlesnake You talk that shit about our crew, we hate you You Jump on the next bandwagon But you ain't shit, you get frustrated What's the next fan in, I heard you braggin We never hesitated to call you a Charlatan Cause we hate you Your a rattlesnake And your full of shit I fuckin hate you Your a rattlesnake Your a rattlesnake and I hate you And your full of shit Your a rattlesnake

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John Brim (April 10, 1922 — October 1, 2003) was a Chicago blues guitarist, songwriter and blues harp player. Brim picked up his early guitar licks from the gramophone records of Tampa Red and Big Bill Broonzy, before venturing first to Indianapolis in 1941 and Chicago four years later. He met his wife Grace in 1947; fortuitously, she was a capable drummer and harmonica player who played on several of Brim's records. She was also the vocalist on a 1950 single for the Detroit based Fortune Records, that signaled the beginning of Brim's discography.

Read more about John Brim on Last.fm.


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John Brim