Hell of a day to load a
22 and take it to the woods
And then bring it to a body
And somebody muthafucka not a single solitary
Thing is missin' from my Southern roots
Manage to take a Cheverolet run up through
The muthaf-cking mud, forget it
Hell of son of a bitch my momma raised into a rapper
Who could tell a story like my uncle when he’s drinking
Product of a working environment, fuck is y’all thinking
Meaning I’m working working harder
Than any artist could ever do it
Simply cause I’m made that way
I build a house around ya ass before you
Can realise that you in a neighborhood that Yelawolf made
So call me a redneck and tell your boys
About it, tell ‘em I’m an Alabama wannabe
I be that, I just take it to the studio and
Drop a bomb on you from a muthaf-cking beanie bag. I need that
Shady!