Well I went down the ole corner store to get my whistle pig rye
Another night pick'n on a song and drink'n the bottle down dry
If I had a nickel for every time I rot my brain to its root
Then I wouldn't had to sell my soul to the man in the pitch black suit
And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs
Stoned howl'n at the moon
Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie
Blame it all on my roots
Now I should've known better but I still can't sit that bottle back down
And my sweet friend I could windup dead push'n daisies from the cold hard ground
But that sweet taste haunts me
Always leaves me wanting
Got me up in the dead of the night
Well lord I'm a sucker for a good time
And I might just be for life
And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs
Stoned howl'n at the moon
Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie
Blame it all on my roots
I swear to god I ain't ever gonna slow down
Til the soles worn out of my boots
Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie
Blame it all on my roots
And it's down in the cellar play'n old school songs
Stoned howl'n at the moon
Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie
Blame it all on my roots
I swear to god I ain't ever gonna slow down
Til the soles worn out of my boots
Blame it on the grind for that piece of pie
Blame it all on my roots