[Intro Upchurch]
Yeah
Yeah
Church
[Verse 1: Upchurch]
b*tch I came up from this sh*t, 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 sh*t from you f*ckboys, 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 sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
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 f*cking 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 bullsh*t running by the f*cking load
I don't believe a song you ever f*cking 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 f*cking 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 sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Well I've been here on that country sh*t, that cracker sh*t, that redneck sh*t
A lotta these boys done changed their ways but I'm still in the woods just killin' sh*t
Still rap about some huntin', muddin', fishin', drinkin' country livin'
I see a bunch of f*ckboys 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 sh*t'll get you f*cked 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 sh*t
Leave your ass in a ditch, take your boots and take your sh*t
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 sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
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 sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker
Country boy sh*t, yeah motherf*cker