| Yeah
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| Yeah
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| Church
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| Bitch I came up from this shit, shotgun laying right by the screen door
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| Alarm buzzing on my house, did my ol' lady know she gotta hit the floor
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| Ain’t taking shit from you fuckboys, I got Tennesseans to make you get lost
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| Bottom of the river no bubbas don’t, concrete feet like a sidewalk
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| So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
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| It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| If I get jammed up and I need a ride, I’m calling Sampson any day or night
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| He’s rolling up in a El Camino with a engine built for a drag night
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| Running 740's in a eighth-mile with a pistol loaded, no driver’s license
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| And the game reserve come find me, city cop cars with a two wheel drive
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| With a crate of shine sitting in a truck, we get heated up with a Bic lighter
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| Been crazy and we’re that creative, it’s actually how I fucking live player
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| Other country rappers really can’t hang 'cause they can’t live it,
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| what they talk about
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| Are you rednecks and from the south, quit tryna convince me what you about
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| Just tell it to the mic, show me on the road
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| You got bullshit running by the fucking load
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| I don’t believe a song you ever fucking sold
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| Used to be a gangsta, now you never was
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| Pimpin you got shooters, keep it on the hush
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| You ain’t got no shooters, you can’t shoot a gun
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| You ain’t fucking hard, why you lying son
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| Everybody in here know where I’m from
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| So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
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| It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Well I’ve been here on that country shit, that cracker shit, that redneck shit
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| A lotta these boys done changed their ways but I’m still in the woods just
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| killin' shit
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| Still rap about some huntin', muddin', fishin', drinkin' country livin'
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| I see a bunch of fuckboys in camo hats that’s never lived it I see you got them jeans tucked with your Skoal ring and that pinch of snuff
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| Where I'm from deep in the cut that fake shit'll get you fucked up Take a wrong turn and work that mouth and it won't be hard to find me Bring it son I do shoot guns, and I blend in with them |
| pine trees
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| Patrolling down these backroads, I keep these gun racks shaken
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| Deer tracks in the dirt on a redneck’s turf and the buckshot keeps on spraying
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| Don’t run up on these country boys that’s really on some country shit
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| Leave your ass in a ditch, take your boots and take your shit
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| So don’t make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
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| It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
|
| Make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people’s skulls
|
| It’s that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
|
| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
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| Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Country Boy Shit , by - Upchurch. Song from the album Project X, Vol. 1, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп