Yeah, hell of a day to load a twenty two and take it to the woods and let it ring into the night And break a bottle with the bullet, yes I'm 'bout it motherfucker Not a single solitary thing is missing from my southern roots I'm liable just to take a Chevrolet and run it through the mud for giggles Huh, what a son of a bitch my momma raised into a rapper That could tell story like my uncle when he's drinking Product of a working enviro-nment, fuck is y'all thinking? Meaning I'm working-working harder than any artist can ever do it simply 'cause I'm made that way I build a house around your ass before you could realize, That you were in the neighborhood that Yelawolf made So call me a redneck and tell your boys about it, tell 'em I'm an Alabama wanna-be, I be that, I'll just take it to the studio and drop a bomb on you from a motherfucking beanbag, I need that [Chorus] Get away Tell my folks roll up the J's Bring Yelawolf a deuce, we'll sit up on the roofs of the broken Chevrolet Talk til there's nothing left to say, cause if I don't get away People will see my trailer park getaway, feign you will have to get away from me Drink some, smoke some You won't have to get away from me Load up the guns, load up the guns Feign you will have to get away from me Drink some, smoke some Cause if I don't get away People will see my trailer park getaway, feigns you gon' have to get away from me Man, I done been through it all I'd a been up and know what it is to fall Punk police feeling all on my balls When I have probable 'cause I never stand tall Dog, you gotta do something Fatt Who would roll with Wolf, why you come back? Cause them up there, don't want to play fair Got me pinned to the wall like a fucking thumbtack Dumb Fatt, dumb hell, criticize a nigga for the Crack I sell? Like you could give a shit if a nigga eat well Or eat at all, want to see me fall Cause I see them all dog, them lines Only cause I got Catfish on my side Bitch I'm headed up, up to the sky Roll up, let's get high Wavin' them bye, I need that [Chorus] Twenty plus twenty still spittin' 'em out Still piss on your porch and still shit in your house They put my dick in your mouth Take it back out, put it back in Fuck on the floor, skeet on the couch Which one of you ugly muthafuckers think you thug enough or rugg enough Or gutter enough, fast enough to keep up wit’ me The most retarded motherfucker in the whole wide world Ain’t stupid or dumb enough to fuck with me If you in say you in, and if you is handle your mutherfuckin’ business Knuckle up, buckle up, hustle up, huddle up. What we gonna do? Win! Not a nan’ ‘nother nigga outta there can compare To what I do to these boys on these bars and these scales In these clubs in these bars on these tables and chairs I need that [Chorus]