Country Boy Shit Lyrics

Yeah
Yeah
Church

Bitch I came up from this shit, shotgun laying right by the screen door
Alarm buzzing on my house, did my old lady know she gotta hit the floor
Ain't taking shit from you fuckboys, I got Tennesseans to make you get lost
[?] by the river no bubbas don't, concrete feet like a sidewalk

So don't make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up
You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker

If I get jammed up and I need a ride, I'm calling Sampson any day or night
He's rolling up in a Al Camino with a engine built for a drag night
Running 7 40s in a 8th mile with a pistol loaded, no driver's license
And the game reserve come find me, city cop cars with a two wheel drive
With a crate of shine sitting in a truck, we get heated up with a big lighter
Being crazy and we're that creative, it's actually how I fucking live [?]
Other country rappers really can't hang 'cause I ain't living what they talk about
Are you rednecks and from the south, quit tryna convince me what you about
Just tell it to the mic, show me on the road
You got bullshit running by the fucking load
I don't believe a song you ever fucking sold
You used to be against and now you never was
[?] you got shooters, keep it on the hush
You ain't got no shooters, you can't shoot a gun
You ain't fucking hard, why you lying son
Everybody in here know where I'm from

So don't make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up
You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker

Well I've been here on that country shit, that cracker shit, that redneck shit
A lotta these boys done changed their way but I'm still in the woods just killing shit
Still rap about some hunting, mudding, fishing, drinking country living
I see a bunch of fuckboys in camo hats that's never lived it
I see you got them jeans tucked with your skull ring and that pinch of snuff
Where I'm from deep in the country that fake shit'll get you fucked up
Take a wrong turn and work that mouth and it won't be hard to find me
[?] son I do shoot guns, and I blend in with them pine trees
Patrolling down these backroads, I keep these gun racks shaken
Deer tracks in the dirt on a redneck's turf and the buckshot keeps on spraying
Don't run up on these country boys that's really on some country shit
Leave your ass in a ditch, take your boots and take your shit

So don't make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up
You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker

Make no wrong turns that GPS might not pick up
You might run up on some crackers that love cracking people's skulls
It's that country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker
Country boy shit, yeah motherfucker