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