toca abajo!

Pues apenas este domingo que acaba de pasar el Super Bowl y la verdad como ni me atrae pues ni mucho al caso con eso, no se quién quedó en segundo lugar por que el ganador fueron los Potros y esto lo se por las noticias que aunque no quiera oírlo lo pasaron.


Como sea, ehmm pues recuerdo que una vez ví un partido de estos hace ya un buen cuando pasaban muy seguro a la final los Vaqueros, también traté de incursionar en el mundo del Américano comprando tarjetas de los jugadores (cuando iba en la primaria, uffff!!) y hasta un póster tenía en mi cuarto (cuando tenía otro cuarto) esa época de Dan Marino y Troy Aikman (no ma!!) ya tiene un ratotote.


Pero bueno el hecho es que hay un par de vídeos relacionados con este mundo de los golpes y de tacleo que me vienen a la mente y que se trata de nada más y nada menos que del Reverendo con su canción The Fight Song muy buen ruido para darse unos golpecillos y otra más chida (visual) que de hecho es la única que le he escuchado de Bubba Sparxxx la cual agrupa varias cosas de buen ver tales como un videojuego de éste deporte, pero eso no es lo interesante del vídeo, check it out ...







1,2
1,2,3, let's go

[Chorus]
Back in the mud I've been in
I confess, I'm so happy here
There's nothing you can do to make me stay away, away, away

[Verse 1]
He's just that country boy, city slick, pit bull temperament
At the Pony, at the Flame, either way it's an event
If it's me consider it more than a coincidence
Even though they mumble at me sucka's keep they distances
Barber K, hey, what's that, they say
Hip hop redneck that's a safe place
Say what makes you comfortable
Wit me cuz I like it here
How about a rural dwelling urban music pioneer
Turn it up, let it bang, run wit me I bet you can't
Took too much to make it float, never will I let it sink
So when we invented it for our youth and generous
Hopin' that my moment passed, I can see no end of it
Twenty-five, livin' like I was born yesterday
Lovin' life, doin' right, earnin' every breath I take
Standin' in the mud again cuz it seem to pay me well
Playin' wit my not-so-distant cousins from the A-T-L
Aaah!

[Chorus]





[Verse 2]
Press it up, ship it out, call the Pony, rent it out
Everything I am today is really what I been about
Athens, Georgia resident, native of LaGrange though
I don't love the peach state, "Buddy, say it ain't so"
Now all of a sudden, in fact, it's quite the opposite
I'm lovin' y'all from Brunswick up to the metropolis
Can't forget about my Betty Betty in Dahlonega
They put the triple X's at the end of Andy's moniker
How could I run from everything that made me
Know that all the love I get's appreciated greatly
Now I'm on the brink of something truly inconceivable
Bubba's international but still he kept it regional
Tryin' to make my mama proud
We can laugh and see the smile
Gotta make sure loaded gun, this next CD is in your file
Each and everyone of my talented associates get's what they deserve
Nothin' short of that's appropriate

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
Kitchen cup, fill it up, sober don't appeal to us
If you're broke do what you can, that alone is still enough
Help us out, if you're rich, cuz we funna hit your bitch
Just stop by the store and grab a case of that and six of this
Hey Betty, get ready cuz your daddy's in route
Let her join the beat club, keep that little trim out
Have her screamin' "New South" without pullin' "lewd" out
He always wonder what you doing, let him wonder who now
At the end of the day I would have no regrets
Got it done on every front and I ain't even focused yet
At the bottom of the pile swimmin' wit them mud cats
If you die, man I'm pullin' "soowee" for a grudge match
Spell it out, L-E-G, E-N-D I still believe
Whatever goal God set for me indeed I will achieve
In this life or in the next, whether drinkin' gin or Beck's
Bubba funna bring it home, conceal it, and send the checks

[Chorus x2]














PS: Así sí!!!
PS2: Ohh cierto, fábuloso año 2003!!