I'm 'bout to spit some fast shit (One time for the dirty boys) Cheatham county bitch! (Yeah, yeah yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Yeah, I grew up on the old shit y'all already know this I never thought somebody from my town would get noticed Everybody try but eventually they all quit And either went to college or they work up at the saw mill Hip-hop country, how the fuck you think I feel Got people looking at me thinking that I'm not for real Bitch, I got four wheels turned down four deals Four good buddies, with the four blue flame stills Redneck shit to the maximum Shit, I'm telling my story just rapping 'em As I join in nobody can even fathom us 'Cause, it's three separate things just smashing (What?) A little bit of country, little bit of hip-hop Little bit of rock at the bottom of the ridge top White smoking shit like I'm motherfucking Ken Block Holla whatchya wanna, but I'm always making shit pop R.H.E.C. until my motherfucking heart stop I say it 'cause I mean it till my motherfucking heart stop Redneck bone in a 89 ragtop Country boy getting famous from a goddang laptop Rolling, looking clean like a life-sized matchbox Ex girl, hit my line, turned into a missed call You can call me Trump 'cause I'm building me a big wall Blocking out you haters while I'm grabbing on my white balls
One time for the dirty boys Loud square bodies out making all the noise One time for the dirty boys River rat lookin' ass, smoking all the joints One time for the police Always busting parties in the Ranchettes trying to chase me Mustang GT, hippie chick with me Puffing on some green, bumping M.G.M.T. (Ha!)
Every single person who ever told me that I couldn't Gets a middle finger from me and calling me when they shouldn't They're pushy and overlooking but now I'm more than a rookie And making my county noticed for something other than druggies (Awe yeah) Dixie Flag on the front porch (What?) Country boy hotter than the tip of a damn blow torch Fuck a Rolls Royce, I'd rather drive A Monte Carlo with a cowl induction hood boy (Hood boy) I'm from the woods boy, rolling in the woods toy Talking slow working ain't the only thing I'm good for Tougher than an old Ford, quit sports, still scored Picking up the farmers daughter, fricking on the front porch Parents talking shit while I'm rolling up a whole log Last day of senior year, shit, I was too gone Knew I had to find myself off in this old world And I was gonna yell it till a bunch of people all heard Redneck spitting blue flame with the pen though Never had a bunch of friends, always had my kin folk Rolling six deep in the F-150 I don't need an image, 'cause the image came natural Small town shit till I don't breathe A bunch of attention brother I don't need A bunch of fake friends I don't seek Money ain't about shit, except for old greed And I don't need a mansion by a big white beach Gimme a fucking double wide by an old-ass creek This is how I was raised and I'll always be South side, Cheatham County, middle Tennessee
One time for the dirty boys Loud square bodies out making all the noise One time for the dirty boys River rat lookin' ass, smoking all the joints One time for the police Always busting parties in the Ranchettes trying to chase me Mustang GT, hippie chick with me Puffing on some green, bumping M.G.M.T. (Ha!) One time for the dirty boys One time for the dirty boys Dirty Boys One time for the dirty boysTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
