Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trailer Park Hollywood, artist - Yelawolf. Date of issue: 28.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Trailer Park Hollywood |
| Heavy metal longsleeve made in 1988 |
| Fake nugget wristwatch made in 1988 |
| Dixie cup in the cup holder, shakin', makin' waves |
| Boom, boom, boom, got Jurassic Park 808's |
| Ooh, I’m Elvis Presley, 38's on 22's |
| Rhinestone jacket like Joshua Hedley |
| Yeah, I got that Honolulu |
| Flower power, bouquet, medley |
| 'Bout to throw this Chevy in Tom Cruise |
| And go Trailer Park Hollywood, go Trailer Park Hollywood |
| Yeah, I got a styrofoam cooler full of cheap suds |
| Rock a necklace that I pulled off a sink plug |
| Bubba’s in the corner chillin' with the mean mug |
| Permanently ill, never did king drugs |
| Did he crack a smile or is it just cracker smiles? |
| That white trash hood shit, go deep with the crocodiles |
| That gummo celebrity mullet is fucking popping now |
| You laid on my vision, you out of touch like a pocket dial |
| Now hold up, open up the folder, look back in the rolodex |
| We repping the seat ever since your uncle was smoking boas |
| Ever since your crooked ass cop daddy, he pulled me over |
| And took my quarter bag of dope, 'cause he’s a smoker |
| Fuck it, I got a lot where that came from |
| I know a couple grow spots where that came from |
| 808's rattle in the seat where she came from |
| Yeah, I keep that bottom 'cause I know where I came from |
| Still Slum, bitch |
| Just like a new velvet painting of a pinup girl |
| We Trailer Park Hollywood, we Trailer Park Hollywood |
| I still got the dice hanging from my rearview 'cause |
| I’m Trailer Park Hollywood, I’m Trailer Park Hollywood, Hollywood |
| Your mama’s cigarettes hanging with the heroin, girl |
| She’s Trailer Park Hollywood, she’s Trailer Park Hollywood |
| Just like a new velvet painting of a pinup girl |
| We Trailer Park Hollywood, Hollywood |
| British nights, stepping through puddles and drinking Sprite |
| Baby blue dirt bike, kickstand and the kitchen lights |
| Diggin' through mama’s vinyl collection to the smell of fried bologna’s a |
| ceremony |
| My religion is 'Bama life |
| No smoke in the mirror tricks, just dope in the mirror with |
| The seeds in the rolling tray and the box with the poker chips |
| The roach in the roach clip with the leather and feathers |
| The bellbottoms and aqua net, the hippies and heavy metal, uh |
| And the block is hot as a tea kettle |
| So much dope in the garage you can’t park in it |
| These levels of underground made me a genius with keeping secrets |
| With a family that’s scramblin' police radio signals |
| So what does your daddy do? |
| Punch in the clock and growin' pot in the paddy room |
| And you can’t hang unless you get on his latitude |
| Hip-hop is my lane and rock and roll is my attitude |
| I stay country fresh, bitch |
| Just like a new velvet painting of a pinup girl |
| We Trailer Park Hollywood, we Trailer Park Hollywood |
| I still got the dice hanging from my rearview 'cause |
| I’m Trailer Park Hollywood, I’m Trailer Park Hollywood, Hollywood |
| Your mama’s cigarettes hanging with the heroin, girl |
| She’s Trailer Park Hollywood, she’s Trailer Park Hollywood |
| Just like a new velvet painting of a pinup girl |
| We Trailer Park Hollywood, Hollywood |