[Intro – Crow Caws + Glass Pour]
[Liquor pouring slowly]
You ever notice…
the crows in Louisiana don’t scare easy?
[808 drops hard]
Probably ‘cause they seen everything already.
⸻
[Verse 1]
🎶
Crows drink bourbon too where I’m from,
Sit on church signs watchin’ what we become.
Black feathers slick in the neon rain,
Whole flock smell like cigarettes and pain.
Gold teeth grin underneath candle smoke,
Swamp-born player with expensive ghosts.
My suit dark velvet, my soul still muddy,
Talk fly but the trauma ugly.
Mon cher, the city taught me survival manners,
How to smile clean while emotionally damaged.
Now my swagger got graveyard seasoning,
Every compliment sound slightly haunted.
Women love danger with rhythm attached,
That’s why my love life move like jazz.
One said:
“Baby, your eyes too tired.”
I said:
“That’s just floodwater desire.”
🎶
⸻
[Hook – Choir + Heavy Brass]
🎶
Crows drink bourbon too tonight…
Black wings underneath streetlights.
Crows drink bourbon too somehow…
Even the birds stressed out down South.
🎶
⸻
[Verse 2]
🎶
I got alligator patience and hustler instincts,
Mind still swampy in luxury linen.
Flow smell like mildew and dark cologne,
Every bar got funeral undertones.
The preacher daughter love my voice,
Say it sound like bad decisions.
I told her:
“Cher, that’s Louisiana music.”
Then disappeared into the fog with the crickets.
I’m from where hurricanes got nicknames,
And old pain pass through blood veins.
Where the elders laugh through devastation,
Like humor itself salvation.
My dawg said:
“You joke when life get scary.”
I said:
“Bro, that’s inherited therapy.”
Then lit cigars underneath storm clouds,
Like the thunder might applaud us.
🎶
⸻
[Bridge – Spoken + Organ]
The South got a strange relationship with suffering.
We decorate it.
Dance with it.
Pour liquor on it.
🎶
Black feathers drift through the midnight heat…
Every lost soul still need relief.
🎶
⸻
[Verse 3]
🎶
Truth is—
I romanticize damage sometimes.
Make poetry outta bad nights.
But when you raised around floods and funerals,
Beauty start lookin’ inseparable from ruin.
Still…
I wouldn’t trade this swamp spirit though.
Pain taught flavor to the flow.
Now every verse sound candlelit,
Like ghosts ad-libbin’ in the mix.
🎶
⸻
[Final Hook – Full Orchestra + Choir]
🎶
Crows drink bourbon too in the rain…
Louisiana wired our brains this way.
Crows drink bourbon too at night…
Swamp-born souls still chase light.
🎶
⸻
[Outro – Crow Wings + Thunder]
[Crow caws one final time]
Even the birds got coping mechanisms down here.
