| First you need a 808
|
| Mix a little mandolin with the guitar and some bass
|
| Let them high hats run and then release with a snare
|
| And a sick kick drum then you’re almost there
|
| All you need now, the hardest part
|
| The most important ingredient in this mixed up art
|
| A country boy with a rap flow like a river
|
| Someone that’s good with his rhymes and knows how to deliver
|
| That magic, lyrics sound so automatic
|
| The way I’m choppin' up words like a grammatical hatchet
|
| I’m an addict, baby I’m addicted to music and
|
| Just like a drug I get turned up when I use it
|
| Let me introduce you to beast mode
|
| Pullin' this trigger 'til it’s empty then I reload
|
| Gettin' krunk but it ain’t champagne in the glass
|
| Here let me let the man explain it to your ass
|
| It’s a little George Strait, it’s a little T-Pain
|
| It’s a little 2Pac, chillin' on a front porch swing
|
| It’s a little Biggie Smalls, with a Garth Brooks twang
|
| It ain’t rap, it ain’t country
|
| It’s a hick-hop thang
|
| It’s your boy D. Thrash, yeah
|
| They say a redneck shouldn’t try to rap
|
| But some of you folks should wake up from your nap
|
| 'Cause we’ve been in the sticks out here kickin' the door in
|
| Long before this hick-hop was a trend
|
| And now you got folks tryin' to jump from the bandwagon
|
| Sand baggin' after shows fan braggin'
|
| Everybody tryin' to come up with a cool name
|
| But we know it’s still a hick-hop thang
|
| It’s a little George Strait, it’s a little T-Pain
|
| It’s a little 2Pac, chillin' on a front porch swing
|
| It’s a little Biggie Smalls, with a Garth Brooks twang
|
| It ain’t rap, it ain’t country
|
| It’s a hick-hop thang
|
| Yeah we keep it bumpin' in the sticks
|
| We’re some hicks with a love for hip-hop
|
| We loud in the woods stereos and big blocks
|
| A lot of folks around my way they love and they hate it
|
| But I was stayin' up too late and rappin' and workin' on my cadence
|
| From a snotty nose youngin' and strummin' started hummin' verses
|
| Nervous on the surface right hander with a purpose
|
| Verdict caught up and addicted to the rhythm and the flow
|
| And never could I think about livin' out of the country though
|
| And mix a little Conway Twitty and then some Biggie
|
| Strum a little Diddy gritty lyrics but they always witty
|
| Pretty city boys admitin' that these country boys are flowin'
|
| And yeah, we mix it all in this hip-hop potion
|
| Now these folks drinkin' it up, we syncin' it up
|
| This rappin' country on the rise and we bringin' it up
|
| And while I’m sellin' this rebellion now they thinkin' I’m a felon
|
| So when they ask me to explain the kind of music I do I tell 'em
|
| It’s a little George Strait, it’s a little T-Pain
|
| It’s a little 2Pac, chillin' on a front porch swing
|
| It’s a little Biggie Smalls, with a Garth Brooks twang
|
| It ain’t rap, it ain’t country
|
| It’s a hick-hop thang |