{Chorus – Samples}
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
{Verse 1 – Yelawolf}
Hop off my Harley Davidson looking like I just got hit with a cool stick
Cherry red boots, cigarette lit and aggravated
How come it’s to this dirt road, moonshine trailer trash trooper
Everyday’s a party happy belated
If you smoking marijuana with your mama at 12
Then we either related or related in jail
Street thangs, stealing Honda’s for them Asian gangs
Hopefully Yao Ming’s little sister would give me brains
That’s street cred for the uncredible nobodies
Am I Bon Jovi looking like bi–hes, “I so got it”
Loud it, Catfish Billy, get stoked shawty
And I shined up the bowties up that box body
And Alabama knows it, travel the world with my slangs
Some of them don’t get the slang but Alabama knows it
I’m sweaty funk, humility punks, fish hook on the hat
Dirty little then we float back, lips chapped
I’m country hard
{Chorus – Samples}
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
{Verse 2 – Royce da 5’9″}
Ain’t nobody fresher than ’em and def with more pressure than ’em
Never mess with ni–as whose image is skinny, stretchy denim
Just remember everyone who with me winners, everyone who with you dinner
Bi–hes with you quick as Brucie Chrissy Jenner
Chrome rims on a whip just to shine on ni–as
Black tires to look white, Tyrone Biggums
Giving out turkeys on Thanksgiving like Nino with us
We even pa**ing out TVs like Wendy Williams
All I know is that I’m the wild child
Y’all don’t want no smoke with these bars
All y’all ni–as know is y’all SoundCloud
Hypothetically say I’m pissed, I would definitely AR grip
I would definitely spray y’all quick
If y’all expecting me to hesitate to shoot this bi-ch
Then y’all are definitely in the playoffs with J.R. Smith
I would definitely put my hand in your pocket
But not the way you want
I put your whole family in boxes like y’all the Brady Bunch
{Chorus – Samples}
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
Put the rap game on a crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
{Verse 3 – Royce da 5’9″}
I go bananas, too miraculous to react to mortal mammals
Cooking crack in my new velour pajamas
Getting back to my roots, rap where I stored ’em hammers
Lord of Grammar, my IQ’s my actual portal panel
My IP address is my dressers drawer, I ain’t stressed unless it’s war
I ain’t said sh** unless it’s more, I bet you you’ll die less than my irons legend for regretting gore
Ghost whiter than the driven snow and it’s headed north
Looking like it’s for the seven floors, flows are metaphors
Buried skulls all over the globe like a Stegosaurus
My rifle kick back when it get blazed in the sky
I’m a cla**ic, I get dressed playing Aquemini
Don’t do some sh** to get your wifey kidnapped
Have you on Twitter begging for your bi-ch back like Sage Gemini
Why these ni–as getting their hair dyed and they nails polished
I’m like Biggie and Pac trapped inside of Big L’s body
{Outro – Big L from ’92 Stretch & Bobbito Freestyle}
Rhymes I create a knock out ya gold tooth
Battling me is like fighting a gorilla in a phone booth
I wreck mics and drop the cool speeches
Nowadays rappers think they motherfu–ing schoolteachers