yea, i talk with a twang. i say yall, folks, auntie, brotha, and ain't. just tryin to show you my undeiable roots. don't be the fool to mistake my genius.
i can take the average greeting and sum it up to, how u? and no one would dare question the meaning.
our time loving pace has somehow been mistakened for slow. somewhere wires got crossed cause we have random overflows of these city folks.
but i dare a one to deny the peace of mind and ease of simple pleasure you feek once you enter these southern quarters.
neither will their hips deny the smile they have when their mouth is full of collards, chopped bbq, potato salad, and sweet pies.
we'll even give them somethin to groove to. liqour house music blarring on the porch as its patrons pull on memories of your favorite drunk uncle that paste a grin on your face.
simply put there is nothing better than the tobacco and cotton patches my folks use to work, there is nothing better than grandpas old store, nothing better than walks up grannies path filled with smell of life. simply put there is nothing better than our over developed lips and hips, home churned ice cream and perseves.
combined i call this a southern delight, overwhelming your senses to an ultimate rise.
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