Brad Paisley, Accidental Racist Lyrics

Accidental Racist Lyrics

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Brad Paisley - Accidental Racist Lyrics


(feat. Ll Cool J)

To the man that waited on me at the Starbucks down on Main, I hope you understand
When I put on that t-shirt, the only thing I meant to say is Iím a Skynyrd fan
The red flag on my chest somehow is like the elephant in the corner of the south
And I just walked him right in the room
Just a proud rebel son with an Ďol can of worms
Lookiní like I got a lot to learn but from my point of view

Iím just a white man cominí to you from the southland
Tryiní to understand what itís like not to be
Iím proud of where Iím from but not everything weíve done
And it ainít like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didnít start this nation
Weíre still pickiní up the pieces, walkiní on eggshells, fightiní over yesterday
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

They called it Reconstruction, fixed the buildings, dried some tears
Weíre still siftiní through the rubble after a hundred-fifty years
I try to put myself in your shoes and thatís a good place to begin
But it ainít like I can walk a mile in someone elseís skin

ĎCause Iím a white man liviní in the southland
Just like you Iím more than what you see
Iím proud of where Iím from but not everything weíve done
And it ainít like you and me can re-write history
Our generation didnít start this nation
And weíre still paying for mistakes
That a bunch of folks made long before we came
And caught between southern pride and southern blame

Dear Mr. White Man, I wish you understood
What the world is really like when youíre liviní in the hood
Just because my pants are sagginí doesnít mean Iím up to no good
You should try to get to know me, I really wish you would
Now my chains are gold but Iím still misunderstood
I wasnít there when Shermanís March turned the south into firewood
I want you to get paid but be a slave I never could
Feel like a new fangled Django, dodginí invisible white hoods
So when I see that white cowboy hat, Iím thinkiní itís not all good
I guess weíre both guilty of judginí the cover not the book
Iíd love to buy you a beer, conversate and clear the air
But I see that red flag and I think you wish I wasnít here

Iím just a white man
(If you donít judge my do-rag)
Cominí to you from the southland
(I wonít judge your red flag)
Tryiní to understand what itís like not to be

Iím proud of where Iím from
(If you donít judge my gold chains)
But not everything weíve done
(Iíll forget the iron chains)
it ainít like you and me can re-write history
(Canít re-write history baby)

Oh, Dixieland
(The relationship between the Mason-Dixon needs some fixiní)
I hope you understand what this is all about
(Quite frankly Iím a black Yankee but Iíve been thinkiní about this lately)
Iím a son of the new south
(The past is the past, you feel me)
And I just want to make things right
(Let bygones be bygones)
Where all thatís left is southern pride
(RIP Robert E. Lee but Iíve gotta thank Abraham Lincoln for freeing me, know what I mean)
Itís real, itís real
Itís truth


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