LyricsConspiracy

Upchurch

Last update on: January 10, 2018
No translations availableNo translations available

Yeah, yeah Church

Man, I know I'm getting stupid hella Views, closet got about a hundred pair of boots Looking like the set of Walker Texas Ranger every time you step inside my fucking room Gun sitting in the corner loaded ready When the thief is stealing shit about my yard I don't even call the Cheatham County police, I just call the morgue to get you out my yard I got more connections than a box of Legos, got enough bread to buy a fucking Lambo But I'd rather buy mud trucks, Smoke good weed and roll that shit by the fucking handfull Yeah, I'm tatted up, 26, from the stix, got a gift, so legit How I spit from the trip, Bought a single wide trailer and I made that pimped (Oh yeah) Got the 'Vette on fleek with the top of the House, no shoes, no shirt, with the sunshine out But I won't get burned, Still cold in south, shit, dawg, just bring that microphone out Yeah, I'm black on black, The intimidator, still making noise like damn cicadas This white boy got a little bit of Flavor, still keep it country like grape tomatoes Tailgates dropping on the south Side, got that black smoke steady rolling Glovebox got that James Bond and I ain't scared to bust you open From the land of I don't trust you so don't take my shit too serious Unless you're trying to fuck with me, you'll end up a conspiracy That's destiny, that's will That's striving, that's being a trailblazer An explorer, going into space Mathematics, quantum mechanics, the secrets of the universe All I know is doing hard work, blood, Sweat and tears stained up in my shirt Mama told me, "Keep dreaming till the dream come To life", yeah I grew it from the dirt Used to play, Getting dirty in the mud, now I'm grown, still dirty with it son Rebel flag waving in the southern sun, This is who I am, you cannot take it from me I don't twitter beef, I'm out here getting even, Hiding in your bushes while your ass is sleeping Jack the Ripper kind of vibe is what I'm creeping, Leave you like a broken sink, you're steady leaking Big guns, clicked up looking like We're getting ready for the fucking purge Toolbox got enough ammunition to wipe Out a city from the motherfucking curb Big game, big boots, big balls, big wallet, shocking people Like they stuck their head inside a light Socket, Einstein-looking ass every time I drop it I will never lose my shine, Skin is diamond plate, they want me to stop but I fucking can't Out there repping for my little country State, Cheatham county, baby, that is where I stay Tailgate's dropping on the south Side, got that black smoke steady rolling Glovebox got that James Bond and I ain't scared to bust you open From the land of I don't trust you so don't take my shit too serious Unless you're trying to fuck with me, you'll end up a conspiracy Don't you understand the magnitude, I'm right, I'm correct I've done the research, I know what I'm talking about I don't like being right, I wish I was wrong, but I'm correct They hate your success! They hate your strengths! They hate your passion!

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