Upchurch - Conspiracy lyrics

Yeah, yeah Church Man, I know I’m getting stupid hella views, closet got about a hundred pair of boots Looking like the set that walked the Texas Ranger every time you step inside my f**ing room Gun sitting in the corner loaded ready when the thief is stealing sh** about my yard I don’t even call the Cheatham County police, I just call the mort to get you out my yard I got more connections than a box of Legos, got enough bread to buy a f**ing Lambo But I’d rather ride mud trucks, smoke good weed and roll that sh** by the f**ing [?] Yeah, I’m tatted up, 26, from the stix, got a gift, so legit How I spit from the [?], bought a single wide trailer and I made that [?] Get the [?] on fleek with the top of the house, no shoes, no shirt, with the sunshine out But I won’t get burned, still cold in south, sh**, dawg, just bring that microphone out Yeah, I’m black on black, the intimidator, still making noise like damn cicadas This white boy got a little bit of flavor, still keep it country like grape tomatoes Tailgates dropping on the south side, got that black smoke steady rolling Glovebox cut that James Bond and I ain’t scared to push you over From the land of I don’t trust you so don’t take my sh** too serious Unless you’re trying to f** with me, you’ll end up a conspiracy That’s destiny, that’s will That’s striving, that’s being a trailblazer And explorer, going into space Mathematics, quantum mechanics, the secrets of the universe All I know is doing hard work, blood, sweat and tears stained up in my shirt Mama told me, “Keep dreaming till the dream come to life”, yeah I grew it from the dirt Used to play, getting dirty in the mud, now I’m grown, still dirty with it son Rebel flag waving in the southern sun, this is who I am, you cannot take it from me I don’t twitter beef, I’m out here getting even, hiding in your bushes while your a** is sleeping Check the river kind of [?] without creeping, leave you like a broken sink, you’re steady leaking Big guns, clicked up looking like we’re getting ready for the f**ing purge Toolbox got enough ammunition to wipe out a city from the motherf**ing curb Big game, big boots, big balls, big wallet, shocking people Like they stuck their head inside a light socket, Einstein-looking a** every time I drop it I would never lose my shine, skin is diamond plate, they want me to stop but I f**ing can’t Out there repping for my little country state, Cheatham county, baby, that is where I stay Tailgate’s dropping on the south side, got that black smoke steady rolling Glovebox cut that James Bond and I ain’t scared to push you over From the land of I don’t trust you so don’t take my sh** too serious Unless you’re trying to f** with me, you’ll end up a conspiracy Don’t you understand the magnitude, I’m right, I’m correct I’ve done the research, I know what I’m talking about I don’t like being right, I wish I was wrong, but I’m correct They hate your success! They hate your strengths! They hate your pa**ion!