Wish I could find forgiveness It ain't hiding in no bottle on a shelf I can't feel it on some Sunday morning pew pew The peace I need so desperately Is buried in the one place I can't get to Girl, it's gotta come from you Or lying in the bed of someone else

Whiskey or the Bible A shot glass or revival When you don't seem to run on either side of the fence People act like you don't make sense These big town dreams that I've been chasin' Will never come true if I wind up stayin' And I don't want to fall in

Pull up and wet the block (Pew) Sippin' on lean, that's Wock' (Lean) All on my dick, she won't stop, yah (Bitch) I told her to give me some slop (Neck) Pull up, we drop the top (Top) My niggas, they pop a lot (Pop) Cannot fuck with ops (Never) Walk

Half Cherokee and Choctaw My baby she's a Chippewa She's one of a kind 'Cause I'm an Indian outlaw I'm an Indian outlaw All my friends call me Bear Claw The Village Cheaftin' is my paw-paw He gets his orders from my maw-maw She makes him walk the line

I'm an Indian outlaw Half Cherokee and Choctaw My baby she's a Chippewa She's one of a kind All my friends call me Bear Claw Village cheatin' is my paw-paw He gets his orders from my maw-may She makes him walk the line You can find me in my wigwam

Head, cars, bending Drink, fuck, spew Telephone you If you're alone in your room, what's that boy doing? Keep your voice low Stop looking at my friends They get exactly what you say Can we go now? Not staying 'til the end

Choppa won't miss a nigga Hundred round drum killin' everybody Pew Pew, pew, pew, pew, pew, pew! Yeah! We ain't wasting no time (Yo Pi'erre, you wanna come out here?) Splat, splat, splat, woo! She hop on the dick and she split Hop on my dick like a bitch

You ain't talkin' to Mrs. Jones You speakin' to Miss Wilson now Who's that knockin' on that door You better get away from that door I don't know nobody named Jones You're in the right church, brother, but the wrong pew pew Sam Jones left his lawful wife,

Evil people with evil minds Slaughter their victims with ripping knives They should be caught and put to death Strapped to the chair, they should die there Blood spewing from their eyes As you hear their sinful cries Destroy their evil minds We should

Every back road, we've ever gone down Friday night bleachers, Sunday pews Ain't a county line mile without a memory of you Every whisper, every room, I walk in Every time the bartender fills it up again Everybody knows why I'm here, and you ain't around