Rebel flags on every single whip I got All the glove boxes got Beretta's with the safety off Got the Range Rover trailin' 'cause my streamin' numbers crazy Sold out shows but Coronavirus hate me I'm tryna travel these states like a cowboy baby Tryna be the Charlie Daniels of the rap game maybe A country boy I'll always survive I've made it through racism riots and the internet lies And here I am 2020 straight claimin' my space And my numbers ain't dropped even with all the bass And I ain't scared of nobody if your numbers low sorry I ain't your pussy record label with the contract doctored I'm a walkin' weapon don't go oversteppin' in my section Every line is demolition don't end up the one I'm wreckin' I reckon I'm a little reckless with the pen (Yup) Sometimes I stab my own fingers with the pointy end, on accident Came in the game like Huckleberry Finn Runnin' shit barefoot, I got hella tough skin Ayy, and I got hella tough skins Rollin' deep, we might camouflage a new Mercedes Benz Just depends on how I'm feelin' when I wake up in the sticks Today I feel like tellin' hip hop that I ain't scared of the shit Got Confederate Flag wrap across my Lamborghini bitch This is what a redneck millionaire is Beer bottles on me and my weed I'ma share it Take my daughter to school in a jacked up new McLaren We them holler boys, tell your bitch to holler boy We can't hear you holler through all this high dollar noise Flexin' on the game rockin' Dollar General cut-offs I can't make you none of these dollars, I'm the sergeant you get cut off And these labels try to call me but the artists are some spin-offs I'ma strangle the game and hit the sink and wash the blood off Yeah, I live behind a gate in a ranch style estate Dirty Elvis cruisin' in a Fleetmaster '58 All my haters gettin' ate like a Salisbury steak And I come out on my porch in boxers grippin' two AK's Fuck naw I ain't a gangster I'm a honky with some flavor Livin' in a sketchy world with no sense and no fear of danger Motherfucker what's good, I'll be in the woods Spray paintin' something square with a big Cowl hood You can come and get it, come and get it, son, pow pow I be chiefin' on a tree like Cherokee and pow wow They tell me I'ma die and I really need to slow down But I still got that tread and I ain't see no yellow flag out Approach me with caution the country rap king is flossin' My streamin' is beamin' and all my Creeker skins are some bosses And I don't take any L's so I can't spell you no losses The rappers comin' at me choke on exhaust and and look hella exhausted Too many plaques on my wall for me to care about a diss Too many independent hits for me to care about the biz Too many acres at the crib for me to hear what they talkin' I'm too busy poppin' wheelies on my Yamaha partner Southside rattlesnake laid across the barnyard Sheddin' all the stress and the diamonds on my back large Told me I wouldn't go far, now I got the foreign cars Puttin' memorabilia of America as my paint job Gimme my redcoat and some balls for my musket I don't wanna be civil, I want war with you pussies 'Cause I'm sick of the jokes sayin' that I don't belong I do it for the country boys, stay the fuck off my lawn ChurchTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.