(Man, BeatKing)
Slumafia
Gangsta Boo
Catfish Billy, Yeah!
I am still that motherf**er
Ain't nothing new to this
Been that country cousin way before I even knew K.R.I.T
Seven hundred dollar gla** of whiskey and I shoots it
Using my gold teeth to take an olive off a toothpick
Throw the b**h back in an empty bottle then I stepped out the Silverado
Light a cigarette up and then hobble off into the alleyway covered in smoke like the Legend of Sleepy Hallow
Colder than a December breeze in Chicago, rolling up my sleeves in this one and a lot of them out here working hard but that ain’t my problem, f** ‘em all because of all that sh** was borrowed
Got a bucket to piss in I’m good on this end, no college tuition
On a whole other mission, I’m headed to Memphis to f** with the remix
Keep Bumping Three 6, pull up at the big pen and create a helix
Be the breath of a phoenix
Been dripping, been leaking, juice, b**h, you see ‘em drinking
Look at all my puppy dogs, daddy left you in the kitchen
Now you f**ing going off cooking up a new rendition
Country rappers on my balls look at all the redneckism
Should’ve popped some Adderall, I wasn’t paying attention
That ADD’s like SATs I never took nothing for it
Dazed and confused major league dude, I never took nothing for it
I was just bored, I was just stuck in my trailer walking back and forth
Became a rapper just so I could sing and lose every fan that I had before
Everyday all day, didn’t have that tattoo
Around about ’08 back when I wore fat shoes
No Balenciaga’s I was hoarding Jordan’s with a corduroy hat fedora in Florida
Forget about the old me kinda sorta
Put on a pair of boots and I jump the border
But what’s a border to a native quarter but a way to make Trump create an order
I’m a rebel b**h I don’t wait at the shore for a wave to crash I go and make the water
Transport a serpent earth I’m never nervous, you can’t evolve living on the surface
You can’t take me from my purpose, that’s like taking 50 from Curtis
So hop in the next lane, yeah just I hop in the next lane
But I got the whole f**ing highway, run over you like a sept tank
Trying to catch up in your Reeboks, you better watch where you’re stepping
I’ll sh** on your Champion sweatsuit, cos me and Hip-Hop got a wedding
But I’m musically polygamous idiot rock and roll we did the same thing
Yeah I’m 'bout the Slum South, striped suits and the chain gangs
See if Johnny Cash and Jim Morrison became B-boys with Eminem and Pink Floyd
Then forged a group with Hank III of course then Slumerican would be the emporium
Haha
Trunk Muzik 3
(cracks beer)