paroles de chanson Country Boy Shit - Bottleneck , Upchurch

Yeah
Yeah
Church

Bitch I came up from this shit
Shotgun layin' right by the screen door (yeah)
Alarm buzzin' on my house
Then my old lady know she gotta hit the floor
Ain't taking shit from you fuckboys
I got Tennesseean's that make you get lost (yeah)
Bottom by the river no bubbles dog, 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 crackin' people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah, motherfucker (yeah)
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 rollin' up in a El Camino with a engine built for a drag night (yeah)
Running seven 40s in a 8th mile with a pistol loaded, no driver's license
And the game reserve come find me, city cop cars only two wheel drive (yeah)
With a crate of shine sittin' in a truck, we get heat it up with a Bic lighter
Being crazy and with that created, it's actually how I fucking live player
A lot of country rappers really can't hang 'cause I ain't livin' what they talk about
Are you redneck 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 runnin' by the fuckin' load
I don't believe a song you ever fuckin' sold
You used to be a gangster and now you never was
Claimin' you got shooters, keep it on the hush
You ain't got no shooters, you can't shoot a gun
You ain't fuckin' hard, why you lyin' 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 crackin' people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah, motherfucker (yeah)
Country boy shit, yeah, motherfucker

Well, I've been here on that country shit, that cracker shit, that redneck shit (yeah)
A lotta these boys done changed their way 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 run 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
Patrollin' down these backroads, I keep these gun racks shakin'
Get tracks in the dirt on a redneck's turf and the buckshot keeps on sprayin'
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 crackin' 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 crackin' 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