Church Hey shoutout DuaneTV Shoutout Knox Hill Shoutout HollaAtKrazy I'ma fit all of y'all in this mug one day Church Listen to this track b-bitch
I ain't the regular, peep my appearance it's evident My data is prevalent, still remain relevant Never civil just like a damn Confederate Can't even say hey y'all in a song without somebody sayin' my rhymes are rhetoric Damn, who you tryna throw off? Not me, I got a level head Not to mention I'm droppin' these bitches and holdin' every little bit of my leverage And when I drop the rope these bottom feeders gonna die lookin' dried out and desperate Who the fuck said I can't rap? Shut up bitch, you deaf as shit Church all I do is preach, I'll retire and become a fuckin' reverend Nope, I am not a God! Yes, fame is a facade Maybe I should watch what I say before I end up dead in my own yard Sight, point, aim, fire! Reload, again for the second time I'm underground and untouchable like a war bunker in a hillside Been rolling stoned since "Rolling Stoned" so now my brains like fully blown These irises inside my eyes are surroundin' two big black holes Stay poppin' out of that underground and lovin' the game like Whac-A-Mole Last time I grabbed the hammer I hammered down on a haters soul I'm diamond cut from a rock that looks oddly different The only reason you point is well, look at me, I'm indigenous People like "Stop it, stick to country", I ride beats so good they fuck me I go hard, spit out rap babies, no Plan B or Trojans on me I make studios inferno, smell that Stetson wood and marble Lieutenant Dan opponents legs 'cause I'm one they will not walk on Bitch I run it in the forest, you can bet a pretty Jenny I spit so much Bubba Gump, my saliva's shrimp boats with me Fuck bein' cold, I'm frostbit, if rap's a sport I'm offense If rap's a jail I jump fence, if mainstream's cops I dodge shit And every dog has its day, they don't want to hear me bark kid So I'm just sneakin' on the porch deliverin' the dog shit Ears up like a German Shepherd, put a buck shot in your spinal cord Lookin' like the Soggy Bottom Boys found Kevin Gates and an AUX cord Yeah, Upchurch down here Lord, I realize what I am here for I'm about to write the biggest mass murder and not even go to hell for it I'm a narcissistic marksman parkin' in darkness just watch me Spartan kick 'em in pits of darkness 'til there's no carcass chartin' So let me load up the kraken, I'm droppin' 'em off Although somebody give you a couple of acres and a stack of some coffins So when I "blah, blah-blah-blah, blah, blah, blah, blah" We ain't even gotta go and blood drain it or nothin' First 48, yep, that's where I learned to be murderous Creek Squad, sup, yeah, they ain't gonna murder us Even if I die I'll come back as a big tornado Blow folks away with not guitar or cello Just take the papers, be a tree head fellow Don't cry about life, weepin' willowTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.