Yelawolf & DJ Paul
[Verse 1]
Look at my name up under the marquee
And throw up in your lap b*t*h
Still a renegade
Still up in the Chevrolet
Sippin 7 with the lemonade, b*t*h
I'm a moonwalker
Star lit like a car sits in the dark when you have parked it like a n*** stalker
Catfish Billy
I'm the king of the lowlifes
Show up at the show with a bunch of rich folks like I'd like to have ran into a light pole right before they walked in
Car crashed and then bar dashed in a Hertz rental with a fat lip like Burt Reynolds moustache
We drink it up
F**k that we drank it up then tear it down
Crank it up like a pro hound that's beat up and doo-doo brown
(Doo-doo brown?)
Yea doo-doo brown
Tell that fat b*t*h take a doo-doo now
Cause I got that sh*t
Yelawolf up in this motherf**ker with voodoo now
I'm a mastermind

Everything I touch either gets hated or they receive it as
Everything I do either gets bit by these heathens or even it's ripped by the seams when I conceive it
Everything I touch either gets hated or they receive it as
My enemies grieve every time I speak in his mind like a priest in the sky I believe it I'm a

[Verse 2]
With a Colgate white smile
Brush my teeth with propane and blow fire from the teeth of a white child
You motherf**kers better pipe down like you've been caught smokin bogues
Slumericans all around me and we've been talkin cold yea
(S)But a state if mind when you're Rollin up a
(L) it ain't me and Nas
Who howl and yell about (U)
Thank god for shady I gotta give it up to (M)
With out him I wouldn't know what the f**k I would be (E)
Stuck in the south with no C-A-(R)
The rest of this sh*t is kinda cliche (I C-A-N) Laddy Daddy
Yes I can (Alabama)
Yes I am
Grew up in the south gettin popped in the mouth if you didn't say sir yes and said ma'am
So I got slapped half the time
That why when I write about the blues then my childhood takes up half the rhyme
Yea I'm a psychopath sometimes a mastermind

[Verse 3]
B*t*h, better put your dukes up
I ain't got time for these vampires
Throw 'em in the fire cause I am that true blood
I'm an angel untangled by the web of a black widow
So sick that I leave a tree standing up straight
Leaned down like a weeping willow
Deep in a pillow, dreaming, sleep walking
Not one motherf**ker in the game ready for the science
I am Stephen Hawking
Fat b*t*h in the front row
Dry heave and coughing
Get these hoes some H2O before I get fee'd for a**aulting
Blood I see it often
Suds in the bottom of a jug
Left so many duds in the club beat up and crawling
I could've got rich in a teeth auction
On stage like a priest talking
And there will be none after mine
Son of a b*t*h and the father of a church
Similar to Jesus when he found Miss Magdalene