Songtext Lucchase Yelawolf

Lucchase

Can't touch me when I'm steppin' my Luccheses (Lucchese)
I got a stick, if a bitch try to play me (play me)
If I pull up in the box, you gonna end up in that box
I'm Slumerican till that casket fuckin' drop

Yela told me to get em then I got em
Motherfucker you don’t want this problem
Don’t make me pop the trunk, bitch
Glocks, got the extended clip
It won’t jam, it won't miss
Better hide your wife, hide your kids
Boogeyman, with the fendi drip
Post that shot, on my lid
Slumerican fashion
I heard your bitch askin’
He fresh to death, casket
Killin shit like Carole Baskin
Never hide it in the mattress
They got my mama’s address
I dip across the atlas
I’m in the game, fuck practice
If you wanna fuck with me
It’s gonna cost a fee
I don’t believe in Jesus
I don’t own a Jesus piece
Fuck your opinion, you’re not cut game
You’re just a minion
Im Rick Flair, I’m worth the miz
I’m bout the bread, like a Sicilian

(Can't touch me when I'm steppin' my Luccheses (Lucchese))
We some low fashion killers yeah drive a bitch crazy
(I gotta stick, if a bitch try to play me (play me))
Stick okay sick Paw paw paw like a mace, mace
(If I pull up in the box, you gonna end up in that box)
If I pull up in that box well then you know I'm ready to rob motherfuckers
(I'm Slumerican till that casket fuckin' drops)
S-L-U-M-E-R-I-C-A-N boy we comin in hot

Yeah making magic in that boiling water
I done see so many trap houses that I should've got me a name tag
I've been Wayne push, take a major order
Gave em a plug when they here to drop
And it ain't evil what I'm about
Just a brother helping out my brother but he still do me a quarter pound
I smoked up a ounce in the meantime, I didn't even sell one dime
Stayed an á la brocante lab-rat one in the maze of my mind
I got to get to that cheese boy, eating this government cheese boy?
Got dressed with the [?] boy, got blessed like a sneeze boy
Not stressed, not the least boy
Millionaires ain't in my skull
I'm talking after the bees boy, like a bear to the honey comb
Got the paws up, claws out, from under the roof of a small house with no heat, and a old couch
To a drop chevy, rolling out

(Can't touch me when I'm steppin' my Luccheses (Lucchese))
We some low fashion killers yeah drive a bitch crazy
(I gotta stick, if a bitch try to play me (play me))
Stick okay sick Paw paw paw like a mace, mace
(If I pull up in the box, you gonna end up in that box)
If I pull up in that box well then you know I'm ready to rob motherfuckers
(I'm Slumerican till that casket fuckin' drops)
S-L-U-M-E-R-I-C-A-N boy we comin in hot

S-L-U-M-E-R-I-C-A-N
S-L-U-M-E-R-I-C-A-N boy we comin in hot, hot
Badd Wolf, Yelawolf
Slumafia Gang