crack smoke pills through the streets like an early morning fog
Momma's in the slaughter house with a hatchet
helping daddy chop early morning hog
I'm catching Zs like an early morning saw when
I woke up to the racket yawn and pause
What the fuck man I can never get sleep man,
peeped out the window what's wrong with y'all?
Stood up in my Crimson Tide Alabama
sweat pants and threw my pillow
Looks like daddy caught the motherfucker that tried
to sneak in and steal his elbows
They don't know that old man don't hold hands
or throw hands naw he's rough like a brilo
Went to the Chevy and pulled out a machete and that gun
is heavy and tall as the midget willow
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk, on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
11:30 and I'm pullin' up dirty smoking babbage
out the back of my buddies Monty Carlo
Spittin' over some super hot beats with a su
per hot freak we call the parking lot hoe
You know we sippin on that old brown bottle,
bass in the trunk make the whole town wobble
So when we ride around bitches follow,
but tonight one of the bitches is giving us problems
Well one of them bitches be fuckin'
one of my homeboys favorite bitches
And has been on his hit list for a minute and
I think he's ready to handle his business
He told me Yelawolf get this and he handed me
the Cartier watch that was on his wrist
He said watch this shit and he jumped to the
trunk and grabbed his biscuit, biscuit!
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk, on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
Two men stand, one's gotta go
One falls down to the ground,
one walks down to the road
Momma better call the police
Now he's screaming no
Took a buckshot to the chest with a rock
salt shell and he's moving slow
All this blood has spilled,
enough to give a penguin chills
Hot enough to make a potato smoke
at the tip of a hollowed steel
In the valley of the hollowed field
In the valley of the hollowed 'til
This ain't a figment of my imagination buddy,
this is where I live Bama!
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk,
on you
Think he's playin'? You better
listen what he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk, on you
He got an old Mossberg in the mossy oak duffle
bag layin' in the back of the dunk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk, on you
