Alright, let's get it
Silverado, black package
Dealership didn’t have time to tag it
I whipped that bitch out the parking lot
Like I was dead broke and I couldn't have it
Uh, swipe that piece of plastic
Rode around Nashville for three hours
Listenin' to peace waitin’ for the magic
Swung by the crib, grabbed WLPWR
Get the ball, recourse the ball
Valet park my brand new car
Threw the keys and when you move it, please be careful and don't go too far
Took a second and soaked it in
Couldn't wipe off my big-ass grin
Look at Will, "Can you believe it man?
Just wait 'til I get them 20-20 twins"
That's hard work (Uh)
I had to do a lot of yard work (Uh)
I had to pick up that white trash (Uh)
So I could bet on my bar to work (Uh)
I had to carve my own path (Uh)
And do something that had never been done (Done)
Alabama ain't no cakewalk (Uh)
I showed the world how we popped that trunk
And this one shot down, two shot down, three
And this old fuckboi keeps looking at me
He walks up to us then offers me a drink
I know that he wants to hang, he must think that I'm a tree
Wanna be rock and roll, he starts ramblin' about who he knows
And where he’s been and how many records he’s sold with who
And how and this and that and I can't pretend to like this douchebag
Even though he’s got the boost that has the leather and the durag
The shit he told me he wrote for so and so is just so-so whack
Don't wanna be the supermodel for the clothes you wear
Don't pull a seat up 'cause you see me in my folding chair
Congratulations, hope your mama’s proud of what you've done
But she may be the only one 'cause
From over here, you just a bitch
From over here, a liar and thief, man
From over here, you make her sick
From over here, you fakin' to get rich
Don't come over here
Uh, black shot jacket, black Harley, loot cases, 3-8 O.G
Creatively a new worn baby from the G to the A dot D
Went from the Creek to a Love Story
Went from a single wide trailer to the booth's alligator
And the highrise over the streets
Ran through the dirty South in cleats
Never lost touch, never got beat
Lotta rappers talkin' bout who's doing what
Not a single one said shit about me, now that's respect
Can't buy that with a bat or a check
Better check the beat
I mob with kings
Crown my head with a tattoo, Slum, make sure it reads
No more it seem, fuck a message in a bottle
Deliver my words like desperado
Misfits under my umbrella
I hope these songs fulfill the sorrow
Take the bricks so you could build tomorrow
Like a freemason, claw and arrow
Freebird, a prophet's sparrow
Flying through hip-hop, rock, and metal
And while that clock is ticking
I won't let a soul living stop my vision
Give me that bucket and I'm out to dippin'
And I'll shine that floor until it's popping prisms
'Til you see the colors of the rainbow dancing off my Box Chevy
Don't try to fill up my gas tank or my shoes, homie, you ain't ready
And if imitation is flattery, uh, I don't lack on the flattery
I just led gatherings up in my room with the magic
Go back to my cabin and charge up my battery
Don't wanna be the supermodel for the clothes you wear
Don't pull a seat up 'cause you see me in my folding chair
Congratulations, hope your mama's proud of what you've done
But she may be the only one 'cause
From over here, you just a bitch
From over here, a liar and thief, man
From over here, you make her sick
From over here, you fakin' to get rich
Don't come over here
Fake fucking rockstars, don't come over here
Politicians, cop cars, don't come over here
Pill poppin' sloppy rappers, don't come over here
All you motherfucking biters, don't come over here
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
