Upchurch & Bottleneck — Country Boy Shit

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Текст Upchurch & Bottleneck — Country Boy Shit

Yeah
Yeah
Church
Bitch I came up from this shit, shotgun laying right by the screen door
Alarm buzzing on my house, did my ol’ lady know she gotta hit the floor
Ain’t taking shit from you fuckboys, I got Tennesseans to make you get lost
Bottom of the river no bubbas don’t, concrete feet like a sidewalk
So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
If I get jammed up and I need a ride, I’m calling Sampson any day or night
He’s rolling up in a El Camino with a engine built for a drag night
Running 740’s in a eighth-mile with a pistol loaded, no driver’s license
And the game reserve come find me, city cop cars with a two wheel drive
With a crate of shine sitting in a truck, we get heated up with a Bic lighter
Been crazy and we’re that creative, it’s actually how I fucking live player
Other country rappers really can’t hang ’cause they can’t live it,
what they talk about
Are you rednecks and from the south, quit tryna convince me what you about
Just tell it to the mic, show me on the road
You got bullshit running by the fucking load
I don’t believe a song you ever fucking sold
Used to be a gangsta, now you never was
Pimpin you got shooters, keep it on the hush
You ain’t got no shooters, you can’t shoot a gun
You ain’t fucking hard, why you lying son
Everybody in here know where I’m from
So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Well I’ve been here on that country shit, that cracker shit, that redneck shit
A lotta these boys done changed their ways but I’m still in the woods just
killin’ shit
Still rap about some huntin’, muddin’, fishin’, drinkin’ country livin’
I see a bunch of fuckboys in camo hats that’s never lived it I see you got them jeans tucked with your Skoal ring and that pinch of snuff
Where I’m from deep in the cut that fake shit’ll get you fucked up Take a wrong turn and work that mouth and it won’t be hard to find me Bring it son I do shoot guns, and I blend in with them pine trees
Patrolling down these backroads, I keep these gun racks shaken
Deer tracks in the dirt on a redneck’s turf and the buckshot keeps on spraying
Don’t run up on these country boys that’s really on some country shit
Leave your ass in a ditch, take your boots and take your shit
So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker