Upchurch - My Own Lane lyrics

If I die and you forget my name I won’t cast no shadow, I won’t throw no shade And if I never get to walk along the hall of fame It won’t bother me none because I’m in, I’m in my own lane Own lane, with my own sound, with my own look, with my own money, with my own cars With my own bars, with my own trucks, with my own house, with my own chick, I don’t want nothing of y’alls And by me saying that with the numbers I got they say it takes big balls ’cause the big leagues see me And I might f** a preposition up for myself as a nobody dude coming up from Tennessee Yeah they talk to me like I’m a f**ing idiot and they can get me a life I can’t get on my own But I don’t want the life that these airheads live but I guess I can’t get it through that thick-a** skull Sony hit me up and said they wanted the name erased from the song that I did with Luke Combs ‘Cause they don’t want him labeled as a racist and the song “Outlaw” don’t fit his image at all So if you look on YouTube at the same damn song, his name got erased about 8 months ago And I was worried if I didn’t take his name off the label the [?] was gonna come sue me bro But I never said nothing, I just brushed it off, I was always taught to let bullsh** go So “can you get a outlaw” after I’m gone? I’m not sure but hopefully someone If I die and you forget my name I won’t cast no shadow, I won’t throw no shade And if I never get to walk along the hall of fame It won’t bother me none because I’m in, I’m in my own lane My own lane, full of black rubber and spray paint, the smell of muscle cars and trucks with old leaks Shot stills burning way way high on the ridge, I know where they’re all at but I ain’t no snitch I’d rather be a outlaw than a weak-a** b**h, that’s how you end up wrecked laying up in a ditch And motherf**ers don’t get it, but they single me out, for being too damn real ’cause I ain’t a sellout Go ahead, smile away, put the cash in your pocket, you can be recycled but never ever me bud I’m normally Churchman, sipping Jack on a Sunday, a bad motherf**er, hope God forgives me Hell, what am I saying? Every angel falls, God made whiskey and the way to my [?] And he gave me the soul to pour off on my songs and feed off of the emotion I stay dragging along So with that being said when I get to the Gates, I [?] Chevy with an old tailgate A bottle of the devil’s cut in an unlimited tanker, gasoline so clean I could possibly drink it Just spit flames for my fanbase and my last name, underground kicking I ain’t even talk about my grave Talking ’bout the legacy I’ll leave lighting up in my state, the man who never gave his heart to be a f**ing fake If I die and you forget my name I won’t cast no shadow, I won’t throw no shade And if I never get to walk along the hall of fame It won’t bother me none because I’m in, I’m in my own lane