[Intro]
Oh you motherfuckers try to pull a j jerk on me
(Church, Church, Church, Church)
I'm too smart for that
You thought that you was gonna blind me with all that confusion (Can't fuckin' be)
I ran right through that shit (30 thousand likes and you ain't got diss tracks)
You fuckin' with somebody come from a different cloth fuckboys (Run to a million)
I'm gonna let it be known on this track (You can't fuck with me)
You fuckin' with the wrong one, you fuckin' with Hosier
The Midwest Outlaw

[Verse]
Fuck subliminals, I'm gettin' straight to the business (Church)
You opened up these doors and now I'm here to grease up the hinges (Brrahh)
It fits to get relentless, I'm scalpin' you like a Injun (Damn)
Your fans are sick of your bitchin', sound like your chick on a mystery you faggot
I'm droppin' bombs it's atomic, I'm flow with somethin' bionic
I make you head like some chronic, but you don't want the smoke
[?] fades, I be at the foot of your stage (What's up fuckboys)
You have to face the consequences and the repercussions (That's right)
You fucked with one of the dozen that think they doin' somethin'
Cut from a different cloth and you don't really want it son (You don't want it)
Come for that drama that's on my mama, I'm bringin' the wrath
Lyrically smashin' anything that steps in my path
Comin' for your ass no homo (No homo)
Let me get your girls number so I can be a father on the low low
Had her swallow my eggroll, ho got a thing for Puerto Rican's
Especially ones that look like meth is all they've eatin'
I'm gonna hit up big homie, have him [?] the statement
Your mama said you couldn't do the video, your tummy was achin'
Real shit, straight facts, puttin' it on straight wax
You woke the monster and I'm hungrier than a motherfucker (Rawr)
Your head done blew up and I'm here to press your bubble
May not end your career but lyrically your ass in trouble
Be ridin' in a Scottsdale subbin' for the church
And I ain't talkin' 'bout it, just comin' for you and I ain't spittin' words
What the fuck was up with your album cover for King of Dixie?
Lookin' like Justin Beiber, wiped yourself with mud to be pretty
Losin' reality and you caused your catastrophe
Body baggin' 'em, red flaggin' 'em, bitch you got the green light
Plugged in like Wifi, you might just catch a drive by
I'm Suge Knight of this country hick-hop genre
Charge your fans 30 bucks just to come and see you
On top of that an extra 25 just to meet and greet you (Get real)
You wouldn't have shit if it wasn't for the fans (Naw)
I've been on stage jumpin' on you bustin' then you give me up
Fired me up like we livin' in the Holocaust
Go and run and hide 'cause I'm gon' tan your hide extra fried (Damn)
Nice to be locked up the way I murdered you, homicide
Put the nail in the coffin, fill his ass with formaldehyde (Get the hammer)
Call me Danny Glover 'cause I'm spittin' so lethal
And what's up with your bitch, she look like she be off of the needle (Hey, can I get a hit?)
She could model for Proactive, more bumps than an 80's Regal
(Now that was just uncalled for Hosier, that was just pure evil)
Let my nuts breath bitch, get off the tip of my penal (Get off of it)
You changed up like Bruce Jenner, middle finger to little (Does it look tucked?)
Hell one time, you's the artist bein' belittled
I used to be different but changed for the better but I bring out the devil
To burn you, spendin' cremation I'm fixin' to urn ya (Damn)
Got the heart of McGregor, even in lyin' I'm better
Heart of steel like a Beretta, your DNA reads bitch
I heard Cashville raped you, heard he sure doesn't date you
A circle jerk just lurks somewhere in them backwoods and we know it
Guarantee if Church whipped out his dick he'd get down and emo it
Came to your studio, all I heard was Church this and Church that (Fuckboys)
To the point you had to tell (Tom Sawyer home, let's hear what Hosier's been doin', but Church, we've been on the road)
Sellin' [?], qualified, certified fuckboys
Late night comin' to Chris Kyle you through the microphone
Makin' [?] we ride
Ain't no sneak dissin' this way fuck Church I'm at your face (Church, Church)
Got him over there feelin' salty I hope you love the taste (How do you like it?)
Say you the king, but took shots at a so called peasant (You ain't shit)
I hope you feelin' threatened, see me fuckin' the game and I got her pregnant
Feelin' embarrassed now shoulda killed me you arrogant faggot
(Take that shovel out the back and Church, we gotta go bury him)
Ha ha
Bodybag