Okay, let's get it started folks My name is Yelawolf I'm a southern head Fed white bread Been caught where they go to All of my people they B-Boys Some of them B's are bad Some of them got that heart to sell with paintcans in their bag Mr. clever on the wheels with plenty moves for your ass too And if it's war between the crews But he hang it up, fell through Time and time again I'm like a clock with this here pen And it's like tick-tock tick-tock Just give me the verse laid down I'm from where the rednecks get lesser jobs and lesser checks Momma working 9 to 5 slaveshifts Coming home late the microwaveable plates kept my stomach full I thank to lord that was a gift My world is surrounded by hypocrites and demons in body suits Tryna recruit me as an advocate Rapping and talking 'bout fame and loot Now, how the hell did you think I wouldn't smell that poo under your shoe boy?
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