[Intro]
Church
I'm about to drop Chicken Willie on y'all son
Bet, redneck shit
[Verse 1]
Came up in the scene, fuck everybody attitude
Struttin' on the red carpet, rockin' rugged muddy boots
My attitude is short fuse, that Jack D gets me loose
And I always got some crackers round ain't scared of bein' on the news
I'm cold, shit they know my style is dangerous
I'm hotter than a radiator leakin' like a sum'bitch
Got plenty people tryna make me deals down on Music Row
But I ain't down for all that shit and not about to sell my soul
Ha, I'm Elvis Presley of the hick stage
Catch me takin' pictures with some bitches wrapped around my legs
Yeah, and I stay pullin' up in ratchet whips
Got Ford's that look like monster trucks and Chevrolet's that drag the strip
I'm covered up with tattoos and I hang around them good ole boys
That love being bad news, strapped up with them Tonka toys
Backseat got an AR, my glove box got a box of brass
My cell phone given contacts, that would love to come and whoop your ass
[Chorus]
My woods ain't safe for you fake ass bitches
I came from them rags with more ammo than the richest
All my Dixieland shit daddy didn't wear no britches
Fuck around with my family get left up in them ditches bitch
Church
I'm about to drop Chicken Willie on y'all son
Bet, redneck shit
[Verse 1]
Came up in the scene, fuck everybody attitude
Struttin' on the red carpet, rockin' rugged muddy boots
My attitude is short fuse, that Jack D gets me loose
And I always got some crackers round ain't scared of bein' on the news
I'm cold, shit they know my style is dangerous
I'm hotter than a radiator leakin' like a sum'bitch
Got plenty people tryna make me deals down on Music Row
But I ain't down for all that shit and not about to sell my soul
Ha, I'm Elvis Presley of the hick stage
Catch me takin' pictures with some bitches wrapped around my legs
Yeah, and I stay pullin' up in ratchet whips
Got Ford's that look like monster trucks and Chevrolet's that drag the strip
I'm covered up with tattoos and I hang around them good ole boys
That love being bad news, strapped up with them Tonka toys
Backseat got an AR, my glove box got a box of brass
My cell phone given contacts, that would love to come and whoop your ass
[Chorus]
My woods ain't safe for you fake ass bitches
I came from them rags with more ammo than the richest
All my Dixieland shit daddy didn't wear no britches
Fuck around with my family get left up in them ditches bitch
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