Song lyrics
Still on that ass like handcuffs,
Up in ya like hand-puppets,
Make a mute holla,
You should've jumped in that Impala, homie!
Refrigerators never seen ice, baby,
Not vanilla, not a breeze on the hill,
Will make a flame grab a chinchilla,
Quite like the words I built up to.
Fuck guppies, I see food and I hush puppies,
So give me that king crab
And I'll break its shell, you seen that?
Well, fuck 'em if he don't take it well,
So crack the top off that hot, shakin' ale,
And say, "Free Young Struggle!" Who's not makin' bail,
He got popped by the feds,
Fuck the cops! Take an L,
Fuck it, take M-N-O-P, learn how to spell.
I'll pull up to the gate,
And we'll skate on these country faggots
And until then, fuck 'em, they can have it,
Slumerican means Slum American breed,
Gutter raised with worldwide dreams, yeah!
[Chorus:]
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a bullet in the barrel with a hairpin trigger now.
Yeah, I'm a landslide,
I'm a head case train wreck avalanche comin' down.
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a ready made party,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
La la la,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
[Verse 2:]
Still on that gas like
The bottom of my signature shoe, 'Bama red,
I'm on that ass like Alabama did LSU,
Goose egg, oh lord!
Bible Belt raised in your mouth like a cold sore.
Roll Fords? Nah, roll tide and roll Chevys,
My momma rolls joints,
Smoke rolls off of the tip,
Daddy's a rolling stone,
I'm rollin' in shit with these pigs
In the south side.
Who you rollin' with in the sticks?
With hair weaves and air streams,
Cigarette stained walls,
Fuck, I can barely breathe,
Spittin' shotgun pellets,
Out of my fuckin' chili bowl.
But am I a hillbilly? No.
I am the truth behind these fuckin' illusionist
Yellin' redneck, you about as red as the color blue is,
Call me a redneck, and I just tattoo it,
Because of the abuse and I use it as therapy in music
So...
[Chorus:]
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a bullet in the barrel with a hairpin trigger now.
Yeah, I'm a landslide,
I'm a head case train wreck avalanche comin' down.
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a ready made party,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
La la la,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
[Verse 3:]
Still on that grass like
John Deere's, this yard is already cut,
You can't get no work here, uh,
You fags thought it was swag you was stealin'.
It turns out I got no peers,
Just years of street smarts,
So here you go, retards,
Come hit this bulls eye,
I'll give you three darts:
One, my last album flopped,
Two, it wasn't my time,
Three, my fuckin' mama's sellin' my pajamas online.
La la la,
But guess what?
I'm whiskey in a bottle now!
Fuckin' right, I'm aged,
I'm dirty three, I'm not a child, who plays with rap to get a piece,
Don't clap for no MC who's wack,
They get a free slap.
Fuck out my car, and I'm smashed in a Caprice,
I'm Jack sippin' still,
Whippin' wood wheels,
Truck on steroids
Illegal to play ball,
But, dammit, how good it feels!
Drop that black card,
Park in the backyard,
Baby, fire up the grill,
It's party time!
[Chorus:]
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a bullet in the barrel with a hairpin trigger now.
Yeah, I'm a landslide,
I'm a head case train wreck avalanche comin' down.
Put your hands to the sky,
I'm a ready made party,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
La la la,
I'm whiskey in a bottle now.
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