Okay, let's get it started folks
My name is Yelawolf
I'm a southern head
Fed white bread
Been caught where they go to
All of my people they B-Boys
Some of them B's are bad
Some of them got that heart to sell with paintcans in their bag
Mr. clever on the wheels with plenty moves for your ass too
And if it's war between the crews
But he hang it up, fell through
Time and time again I'm like a clock with this here pen
And it's like tick-tock tick-tock
Just give me the verse laid down
I'm from where the rednecks get lesser jobs and lesser checks
Momma working 9 to 5 slaveshifts
Coming home late the microwaveable plates kept my stomach full
I thank to lord that was a gift
My world is surrounded by hypocrites and demons in body suits
Tryna recruit me as an advocate
Rapping and talking 'bout fame and loot
Now, how the hell did you think
I wouldn't smell that poo under your shoe boy?