Yeah, hell of a day
To load a .22 and take it to the woods and let it ring
Into the night and break a bottle with the bullet
Yes I’m ’bout it motherf*cker, not a single solitary thing
Is missin’ from my southern roots I’m liable just to take a Chevrolet
And run it through the mud for giggles
Huh, what a son of a b*tch my momma raised into a rapper
Who could tell story like my uncle when he’s drinkin’
Product of a workin’ environment, f*ck is y’all thinkin’?
Meanin’ I’m workin’-workin’ harder than any artist
Can ever do it simply cause I’m made that way
I build a house around your a** before you could realize
That you were in the neighborhood that Yelawolf made
So call me a redneck and tell your boys about it
Tell ‘em I’m an Alabama wanna-be, I be that
I’ll just take it to the studio
And drop a bomb on you from a motherf*ckin’ beanbag
I need that..
Get away, tell my folks roll up the J’s
Bring Yelawolf a deuce, we’ll sit up on the roof of the broken Chevrolet
Talk til there’s nothing left to say
Cause if I don’t get away, you gonna see my trailer park ghetto ways
Then you gon’ have to get away from me
Drink some, smoke some
You gone have to get away from me, load up the guns, load up the gunseginning