Lyrics Oh No - Yelawolf

Ain′t no party like a trailer park party
'Cause the trailer park party don′t stop
Ain't no money like food stamp money
'Cause the check money′s for a sack of pot
Ain′t no country like Tennessee
Country, but the 'Bama boys got it on lock
Ain′t nobody like Billy, nobody boy,
Billy got the big bass drop, come on
Deep pockets, buddy, I'ma need a tall cart
Fishnet on a leg lamp shade
Turn the lights on, now that′s what I call art
From the gutter like the bottom of a long fall
Move to my own beat like the song's off
Gettin′ busy like I'm dialin' up the wrong call
Heels on the damn toes for the long walks
Story like I′m Rod Corey ′cause I get stoned
Got 'em drawin′ up a blank as I get gone
Catfish Billy, yeah, I got a sick tone
And he's in the laboratory with a brick phone
Got the ball I′ma run it like the burnt part
Throwin' up the number three ′cause I Earnhardt
At the bar sideways tryna learn darts
Whole family of slums in this bitch rollin' deep boy
Oh no, some bad motherfuckers in the house tonight
Oh no, it's some bad bitches in the house tonight
Opie Taylor got the streets going Mayberry
Been rappin′ with the best and it ain′t scary
Purple teeth from the wine like I ate berries
Drinkin' 40oz Schlitz in a bubble bath
Eighteen wheels down like a bus pass
Drop a tour halfway like George Jones
Rough kiss goodbye like a mustache
She was shakin′ in line, made her pass out
Must've weighed about at least two hundred fifty pounds
Laid up on the ground down with her ass out
Never met her but we call her big crack house
That′s rich like Milo Sweet Tea
Line around the block for the Creek meet and greet
Two hot potatoes and a steak I'ma make it three
Whole family of slums in this bitch rollin′ deep boy
Yeah, they like
Oh no, some bad motherfuckers in the house tonight
Roll Tide on the numbers like a quarterback
Bandana tied on a big brim hat
Hit the cycle with the Harley sittin' in the grass
My uncle told me "Break a leg" and I limp back
Low glow with the gold chain, big buck
Single wide with the match stick dry eye
Throw the flame like a propane lit up
Back to work on time, never one to win
Got the 808 knock like I'm comin′ in
Blowin′ through the notebook like a summer wind
Rollin' up with Ouncezilla and my cousin ′nem
Mama smiled and said, "Boy, you know you ain't shit"
But see, where I come from, that′s a compliment
'Cause baby boy got sauce like condiments
Whole family of slums in this bitch rollin′ deep boy and they like
Ain't no party like a trailer park party