yelawolf - whiskey in a bottle lyrics
[verse 1]
still on that -ss like
handcuff’s up in it like
hand-puppets makin’ you holler
you should’ve jumped in that impala homie
refrigerators never seen ice baby
not vanilla, not a reason that
yela make a flame grab a chinchilla
quite like the words i pulled up to
f-ck guppies, i see food in a hush puppy
so give me that king cr-p
and i’ll break a sh-ll
you seen that?
well f-ck it, if he don’t take it well
so crack the top of that hot, shaking ale
and say “free young struggle” who’s not making bail
he got popped by the feds
f-ck the cops! take a nail
f-ck it take m-n-o-p, learn how to spell
i’ll pull up to the gate
and we’ll skate on this country, f-ggot
and until then, f-ck ’em, they can have it
slumerican means
slum american breed
gutter raised with worldwide dreams, yeah
[hook]
put your hands to the sky
i’m a bullet in a barrel with a hair pin trigger now
and i’mma 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
lalalalalalalalalaa
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 -ss like alabama did lsu
you said “oh lord” bible belt raised
in your mouth like a cold sore
rolled ford’s? nah roll tide and rode chevy’s
my mama rolls joints
smoke rolls off with a timp
daddy’s a rolling stone
i’m rolling in sh-t with these pigs
and the south side
who you rolling with in the sticks?
with hair weawes and airstreams
cigarette stained walls
f-ck, i can’t barely breathe
spittin’ shutgun pellets
out of my f-ckin’ chili bowl…
but am i a hill billy, no!
i am the truth behind these f-ckin’ illusionist
yellin’ redneck, you about as red as the color blue is
call me a redneck, and i just tatoo it
because of the abusin’ i use it as therapy in music
so…
[hook]
[verse 3]
still on that gr-ss like
john deers this yard is already cut
you can’t get no work here
you f-gs started with swag, you was stealing
it turns out i got no peers
just years of street smarts
so here you go r-t-rds
come hit this bulls eye
i’ll give you three darts
one, my last alb-m flopped
two, it wasn’t my time
three, my f-ckin’ mama’s selling my pajamas online
(lalalalalalalalalaa)
but guess what?
(i’m whiskey in a bottle now)
f-ckin’ right, i’m aged
i’m dirty-3, i’m not a child who plays with crack to get a piece
don’t clap, for no mc who’s wack
then get a free slap
f-ck out my car when i smashed in a caprice
i’m jack sippin’ still
whippin’ wood wheels
truck on steriods
illegal to play ball
but d-mn it how good it feels
drop that black card
park in the backyard
baby fire up the grill
it’s party time
[hook]
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