Bad News Yelawolf & Caskey
On this page, discover the full lyrics of the song "Bad News" by Yelawolf & Caskey. Lyrxo.com offers the most comprehensive and accurate lyrics, helping you connect with the music you love on a deeper level. Ideal for dedicated fans and anyone who appreciates quality music.
[Intro: Yelawolf]
Yo, I am so high right now (Colt 45 and)
Seriously (Ah, Percocets)
Yo (Gettin' it)
Yo
[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
I gave 'em a catalog as thick as a fuckin' phone book and they still don't know what to call me
So I climbed to the top of a tall tree, threw a bowling ball in the lake, and I told 'em, "Just call me Boss D"
Yeah, that's a rappin' motherfucker, huh?
Yeah, I could wrap a whole fuckin' package up
Yeah, you a savage, but it don't matter, I graduated from savage to psychopath with a platinum cup
Platinum plaques for my managers
Bag of crack for my uncle, two-pack of glass with the Brillo pad, mad 'cause they can't handle us
We keep it too real, what is that?
I don't speak bootleg thoughts, but I might bootleg a thirty-pack
Still bendin' them corners, not the same whip
Still in that Chevy, but that bitch ain't got the same hips
Hey, by the time I hit fifty-five
I'ma have a tattoo body suit, whippin' my dick out on a yacht
[Chorus: Caskey]
Goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, rollin' through the city with some bad dudes
You can tell it by the tattoos
Yeah, comin' out the dirty south like it's Baton Rouge
Goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, comin' out the dirty south like it's Baton Rouge
Yo, I am so high right now (Colt 45 and)
Seriously (Ah, Percocets)
Yo (Gettin' it)
Yo
[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
I gave 'em a catalog as thick as a fuckin' phone book and they still don't know what to call me
So I climbed to the top of a tall tree, threw a bowling ball in the lake, and I told 'em, "Just call me Boss D"
Yeah, that's a rappin' motherfucker, huh?
Yeah, I could wrap a whole fuckin' package up
Yeah, you a savage, but it don't matter, I graduated from savage to psychopath with a platinum cup
Platinum plaques for my managers
Bag of crack for my uncle, two-pack of glass with the Brillo pad, mad 'cause they can't handle us
We keep it too real, what is that?
I don't speak bootleg thoughts, but I might bootleg a thirty-pack
Still bendin' them corners, not the same whip
Still in that Chevy, but that bitch ain't got the same hips
Hey, by the time I hit fifty-five
I'ma have a tattoo body suit, whippin' my dick out on a yacht
[Chorus: Caskey]
Goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, rollin' through the city with some bad dudes
You can tell it by the tattoos
Yeah, comin' out the dirty south like it's Baton Rouge
Goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, goin' 'gainst me bad news
Yeah, comin' out the dirty south like it's Baton Rouge
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