0-100 that's easy I done did it
Then the sheriff picked me up and my license is now suspended
They confiscated my weed and sent my truck down to the impound
Now I got a couple toys smokin' on that real loud
Aw yeah! Dual exhaust and the Swisher Sweet
Smellin' like a 12 valve Cummins from way down the street
No brake pads I ain't stoppin' I'm a miss these trees
Kinda hard to do when you livin' down in Tennessee (Shit)
I'm Peyton Manning on a bad day
Throwin' Hail Marys while I'm pissin' in my driveway
Stayin' to myself and approachin' the game my way
I came up in this bitch smokin' tires sliding sideways
Yeah, got ammunition for the ones who bitchin'
This is my ambition I'm hearin' opponents motors tickin'
Haters eat my music up I guess my shit is finger lickin'
I stay standin' tall like a truck with a fuckin' welded lift kit
Damn, my voice louder than my stacks are
Feelin' like a monster truck surrounded by some smart cars
Resemblin' the county jail 'cause all I got is slick bars
Tougher than a big body Caprice that is a derby car
Shit, it's okay I know you envy me
I'm hick-hop's legend son you know that I'm that MVP
I'm gettin' text messages from folks who work at MTV
And hangin' out with people who stay singin' up on CMT
People use to tell me "Church do it for the Vine though"
They didn't have a clue that I can clean a deer blindfold
They took me as a joke and now nobody's laughin'
I'm that hillbilly boy that be grabbin' up all the action
I'm a redneck with a passion for country lyrics and rappin'
You can call my ass a turtle, but only because I'm snappin'
I'm sinkin' the sickest hooks in these swamps that they say are dangerous
Slayin' these motherfuckers who use to think they was gangster
Ha! Shit! I'm diggin' holes bitch, gopher it
Mr. Upchurch explainin' what the fuck a poser is
I didn't step in Bass Pro until my ass got older kids
'Cause mama didn't have the dough to go and buy expensive shit
So I was rockin' Goodwill but I really didn't give a damn
'Cause I was raised off realness and to earn the cash with workin' hands
My lyrics so cold I wear a Carhartt in the summertime
And I stay cuttin' down some trees and roll 'em up in swisher wine
Yeah! Fuck money, I want my respect
I feel like Jason Voorhees in a corn field pickin' who is next
My pen is my machete let me draw a line across your neck
And demonstrate to everybody rednecks are some savages
I heard Alan Jackson on my daddy's radio
And ever since I wanted nothin' but to spit that country flow
The mouth of the south aw hell everybody knows
I'm known for pissin' people off in my Facebook videos
Folks who think I got it made ain't livin' in my mosh pit
Me and mama pinchin' pennies out the Pontiac shit
Gallon of milk off in the seat and a loaf of bread in the floorboard
And people wonder why I'm such a dick head to you fame whores