Lyrics:

Yeah they call me a cousin fuckerThey got some shitty insultsCan''t match me on the track Because I think they smoking bath saltsJust laying on that asphalt Looking dingy and cracked out[?] Whistlin'' Dixie, I run it in the southShit I''m the Conor McGregor of country rap, that is evidentI fuck around and get high And release a album by accidentThe more shit I put out the more haters become irrelevantI''m spitting fucking flames And don''t need kerosene to make it litShit I ain''t even in a laneI''m starting to build islandsWon''t you come venture in my jungle Where I hang out with primatesAnd I ain''t even went hard ''Cause ain''t nobody made me irateMy voltage at a 3Don''t make me crank it to a high 8Pissing off my competition But you won''t hear me go diss ''em''Cause it ain''t gon'' benefit me Unless their fanbase is a millionI spit .45 rounds up in my sleep, Got bullet holes up in my ceilingMy pillow soaked in black ''Cause my saliva''s diamondback venomYeah, I could be at your feetAnd you wouldn''t even fucking know ''Cause you all playing the creep, sonAll I hear is some songs about trucks y''all don''t driveWith some verses ''bout hot girls you ain''t got in real lifeI hear ya blowing black smoke but you don''t even own a dieselI hear you''re country as they come but you ain''t hanging with my peopleSo put your camouflage on, take a picture with some wheelsAct like you''re working hard when you ain''t even got dealsAnd don''t ask me for a feature, we do it different in the hillsYeah, we some rednecks for realMan I looked up to artists That turned out to be some jokesThat''s why I''m high strung like a two-stroke With a pulled out chokeYeah wing-wing on that YamahaChromed out 11 hundredSo many punchlines on my album My front cover is a band aid, hoAnybody who wants these flames Need to purchase fucking SolarcaineI''ll burn you like a drugHank Hill trying to sell your ass some propaneI''m dumping stolen coal Through these swampy southern statesHauling ten tons of ass In this fucking Church trainBlowing smoke through the sky Yeah baby I''m that guyCalling motherfuckers out But their numbers don''t climb''Cause I won''t ever say their nameEven if they try to pay meI''m a pro with this shit These guys sound like they still in trainingAin''t got no livingAin''t half of the shit they''re sayingAnd people wonder why I jump in the pits, stay slayingAll I hear is some songs about trucks y''all don''t driveWith some verses ''bout hot girls you ain''t got in real lifeI hear ya blowing black smoke but you don''t even own a dieselI hear you''re country as they come but you ain''t hanging with my peopleSo put your camouflage on, take a picture with some wheelsAct like you''re working hard when you ain''t even got dealsAnd don''t ask me for a feature, we do it different in the hillsYeah, we some rednecks for real