Songtext Redneck for real Upchurch

Redneck for real

Yeah they call me a cousin fucker
They got some shitty insults
Can't match me on the track
Because I think they smoking bath salts
Just laying on that asphalt
Looking dingy and cracked out
[?] Whistlin' Dixie, I run it in the south
Shit I'm the Conor McGregor of country rap, that is evident
I fuck around and get high
And release a album by accident
The more shit I put out the more haters become irrelevant
I'm spitting fucking flames
And don't need kerosene to make it lit
Shit I ain't even in a lane
I'm starting to build islands
Won't you come venture in my jungle
Where I hang out with primates
And I ain't even went hard
'Cause ain't nobody made me irate
My voltage at a 3
Don't make me crank it to a high 8
Pissing off my competition
But you won't hear me go diss 'em'Cause it ain't gon' benefit me
Unless their fanbase is a million
I spit .45 rounds up in my sleep,
Got bullet holes up in my ceiling
My pillow soaked in black
'Cause my saliva's diamondback venom
Yeah, I could be at your feet
And you wouldn't even fucking know
'Cause you all playing the creep, son

All I hear is some songs about trucks y'all don't drive
With some verses 'bout hot girls you ain't got in real life
I hear ya blowing black smoke but you don't even own a diesel
I hear you're country as they come but you ain't hanging with my people
So put your camouflage on, take a picture with some wheels
Act like you're working hard when you ain't even got deals
And don't ask me for a feature, we do it different in the hills
Yeah, we some rednecks for real

Man I looked up to artists
That turned out to be some jokes
That's why I'm high strung like a two-stroke
With a pulled out choke
Yeah wing-wing on that Yamaha
Chromed out 11 hundred
So many punchlines on my album
My front cover is a band aid, ho
Anybody who wants these flames
Need to purchase fucking Solarcaine
I'll burn you like a drug
Hank Hill trying to sell your ass some propane
I'm dumping stolen coal
Through these swampy southern states
Hauling ten tons of ass
In this fucking Church train
Blowing smoke through the sky
Yeah baby I'm that guy
Calling motherfuckers out
But their numbers don't climb
'Cause I won't ever say their name
Even if they try to pay me
I'm a pro with this shit
These guys sound like they still in training
Ain't got no living
Ain't half of the shit they're saying
And people wonder why
I jump in the pits, stay slaying

All I hear is some songs about trucks y'all don't drive
With some verses 'bout hot girls you ain't got in real life
I hear ya blowing black smoke but you don't even own a diesel
I hear you're country as they come but you ain't hanging with my people
So put your camouflage on, take a picture with some wheels
Act like you're working hard when you ain't even got deals
And don't ask me for a feature, we do it different in the hills
Yeah, we some rednecks for real