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upchurch - fire man (remix) كلمات الأغنية

[intro]
church
we kickin’ it old school today motherf-cker

[verse]
man f-ck hip-hop in the back of a pickup
with the dome light on bl-w j-b full of hiccups
i’ma smash waffle house, i ain’t even gon’ tip ’em
’cause the ville h-lla nasty, parkin’ lot look like a meetup
and the server got no gloves, b-tches yellin’ in the booth
’cause they hit the strip all night like lito when he on that goose
metro boomin on second i paid to park at the hooters
and all the knee caps were short dudes ridin’ electrical scooters
yeah, i am no thug, i never sold a drug
know nothin’ ’bout a plug unless it’s for my heater bro
you’ll need a 40 foot ladder, some indestructible scaffold’s
a roller pole set up the sides of both the f-ckin’ twin towers
to even touch me
even then i blow a kiss and it’s disaster
i mail voodoo dolls to haters then i go and grab the magic
put your head inside a cauldron then i whip it in the kitchen
like a witch up in the bayou spellcastin’ and frog giggin’
nah i’m just kiddin’, or maybe i’m not
no bullsh-t on my lily pad i’m consumin’ the lightenin’ bug
to see the trenches on my path filled with logical lighters
if you ain’t got the matches don’t threaten me with the starter fire
’cause i’ma grab the flame thrower steal the fuel from every petro
set the fire to rain like that old -ss adele song
like dude where’s my car? ashton kutcher p-ss the bong
yo your sitcom looks exactly like my motherf-ckin’ farm, bro
i turn it to a artist who goes to sleep and dreams of lucid things
i wake up show the world from four to 3d on the tv screen
country boy slick, i ain’t even gotta yodel
still go to wally world, but only as a stoner
yeah, my b-tch a puerto rican so you know she cooks that gumbo
i don’t netflix and chill, i loadin’ screen and bend her over
i’m puff p-ssin’ on that clover, she get brain up in my rover
got 200 on the dash i’m dwayne “the rock” upchurch
hooligan with a cowl hood, look like sh-t but i smell good
i’m fast and i’m furious, but right now i’m just chillin’ man
i talk sh-t ’bout spittin’ bars, while i do a really long handstand
you can call me an -sshole but that’s not what my -ss said
i rap for real reasons the game has some wack -ssets
i stay runnin’ the track complete your half fat -ss prints
i root for my team no glitter glue or f-g hashtag
don’t compare me to no one but one day i’ll be a rap dad
mind of a computer appet-te just like a hyper-beast
don’t walk a trail of happy feet, yeah they’re cold but also weak
i polarize the streets like a polar bear off the leash
i am what i said i was so here’s this f-ck you to your face
my last track was so bad i had to load it on p-rnhub
had a thousand likes and the comments said “hard bruh”
skeet-skeet motherf-cker like a club in on two
impala steady b-mpin’ whatcha-whatcha gonna do?
i’ma act a d-mn fool whatcha think i’m gonna do
on some nashville sh-t, party ’til your p–p scoop
down on broadway with a cowboy hat bedazzled back to back
that your -ss stole from a f-ckin’ gas station rack
bud light gon’ get you end up with that metro noise
streets crawin’ and “hey y’allin'” with them redneck boys
oh i’m not talkin’ ’bout nothin’ right, i don’t flow or even rhyme tight
b-tch you’re mad that i’m whiter than white and i f-ckin’ spit spikes
i dress like a b-m but i still drive a lamborghini
every chick who ever dumped me prolly wishin’ that they didn’t
yeah, back then hoes didn’t want me, now i’m hot they all on me
back then i was a laughin’ stock and now i am that honkey
now i am that froggy, now i am p-ssed off
know a couple folks gettin’ b-tch smacked when i walk up in the tin roof
like the good ol’ days jay c-x and t. mccoy
y’all had the whole sidewalk yellin’ sh-t, “worldstar”
i’m used to be in the nights when findin’ him is not likely
f-ck a hater ’til he has my babies and they look like me
i say what i wanna say ’cause n-body gonna say it for me
son i’m tristar raised what the h-ll you expect homie?
it was creek beds, brunettes, five nines, paychecks
six pack, one phone, searchin’ for a little hometown honey
let’s go blow my truck up get it in the mud and waste my money
f-ck it, it came off craigslist for like five hundie
yeah, you and me go fishin’ in the dark
lyin’ in the gr-ss and smokin’ a log
just put your perfume on before i take you to the steps
if your dad asks it ain’t my fault you smell like aerosmith (church)

[outro]
dixieland, di-di-di-dixieland
ayy, you can roll one up but i’ma smoke you out
dixieland, di-di-di-dixieland
ayy, you can roll one up but i’ma smoke you out
church, church, church
stone baby stone biotch

- upchurch

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