LYRICS
Meth lab in the back
And the crack smoke pills through
The streets like an early morning fog
Momma's in the slaughter house
With a hatchet helping daddy
Chop early morning hog
I'm catching Zs like an early morning saw
When I woke up to the racket yawn
And pause
What the **** man
I can never get sleep man
Peeped out the window
What's wrong with ya'll
Stood up in my
Crimson Tide Alabama sweat pants
And threw my pillow
Looks like daddy caught the ************
That tried to sneak in
And steal his elbows
They don't know
That old man don't hold hands
Or throw hands naw he's rough like a brilo
Went to the Chevy
And pulled out a machete and
That gun is heavy
And tall as the midget willow
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's sayin punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's saying punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
11: 30 and I'm pulling up
Dirty smoking babbage out the back
Of my buddies Monty Carlo
Spittin over some super hot beats
With a super hot freak
We call the parking lot hoe
You know we sippin on
That old brown bottle
Bass in the trunk make the
Whole town wobble
So when we ride around ****ing follow
But tonight one of the ****ers
Is giving us problems
Well one of them niggas be ****ing one
Of my homeboys favorite ****ers
And has been on his hit list
For a minute
And I think he's ready to handle his business
He told me Yelawolf get this
And he handed me the Cartier watch
That was on his wrist
He said watch this shit
And he took to the trunk
And grabbed his biscuit Biscuit
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's saying punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's saying punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
Two men stand
One's gotta go
One falls down to the ground
One walks down to the road
Momma better call the police
Now he's screaming no
Took a buckshot to the chest
With a rock salt shell
And he's moving slow
All this blood has spilled
Enough to give a penguin chills
Hot enough to make a potato smoke
At the tip of a hollowed steel
In the valley of the hollowed field
In the valley of the hollowed tip
This ain't a figment of my imagination buddy
This is where I live Bama
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's saying punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
Think he's playin
You better listen
What he's saying punk
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you
He got an old Mos**erg
In the mossy oak duffle bag
Layin in the back of the donk boy
Don't make me go pop the trunk on you