Yz

de Upchurch

Hey
Church, motherfuckin' Church
Creek squad

You can't ride in my Range Rover
You can't smoke on my Jane clover
You can't come to my crib joker
I know some people keep it gangsta, I just keep it country, oh Lord
Red, white, blue, neck, skin, collar, creek squad
Red, white, blue, neck, skin, collar, creek squad
Red, white, blue, neck, skin, collar, creek squad
Some people keep it gangsta, I just keep it country, oh Lord

Every single thing I got was got by me
I ain't have no handout, I was grabbin' the back of dreams (Oh yeah)
Everybody sittin', pointin', laughin', I was runnin' chasin' shit
Now their jaws are on the ground, they lookin' like they hatin' bitch (Aw yeah)
I worked my way from not havin' a thing
And now I got Creeker carved on five of my diamond rings
I don't wear 'em though, I'm still gettin' trash talked by white trash, I am
Lil' bitch my six is watched by every skin in Dixieland (Creek squad)

I'm that ratchet redneck, I stay cleaner than a shower
I jam out to rock n' roll, my tour bus is Stone Sour
And I wear the same jeans, sometimes back to back on that stage again
When I cross the Cheatham line, smokin' in that Range again
Dodgin' coppers, plead the fifth, no you cannot search my shit (Naw)
Unless you get a warrant, don't wake up Judge Maxey, trust me skin
Put Cheatham on the map like nobody has done before (You know it)
But you can still get fucked up with a screw in a two by four, Church