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upchurch - so brooklyn lyrics
[intro]
he’s comin’ with nothin’ but fire
fire, fire, fire
fire and then after that i seen him comin’ around the corner with another stack of wood for the fire
church
creek squad motherf-cker
uh, let’s get it
[verse]
i heard some people got a problem, well let me get the match then
i think you need a light to see you’re sittin’ in a wolf den
i’m more positive i got blood drippin’ off of my chin
kickin’ up the mud like a wild boar inside a pig pen
you couldn’t divide me from hip-hop even if you emptied my dividends
i was broke and livin’ up under a bridge
still record an album on a phone and the thing homeless
volume 1, no cap, i make that underp-ss a home b-tch
uh, my style lingerin’ now
baby face nelson shootin’ every single cash cow
most these rappers commercial, like “it’s my money, i need it now”
f-ck money, so what, i’m too busy gettin’ turnt up
can we turn up green church sn-tchin’ rappers like a tow truck
i’m h-rny in hip-hop and like the morning sunday young bucks
and if you cross my headlights that brush guard’ll get you f-cked up
i turn my haters into country singers who wear pink shirts
i’m a hurricane and a half, the johnny to the cash
tsunami to the water, submarine to a splash
give me that pad again, it’s time to get on my rappin’ sh-t
i just got done recordin’ cl-ssics with a banjo and a mandolin
if there’s an obstacle i’m smashin’, attackin’
regardless of my weight or my asthma
i got ac-30 sh-lls, pack it down in a pinpoint
i’ve been practicin’ practically on a raft with a raft
white waters what i’m finna drown you with
and that’s a river rat fact i ran through every bit of backlash
glad bag me motherf-cker yeah i’m white trash
all i need now is a scissor cut mullet
a cool cut-off sh-t that says “church said f-ck ’em”
just to let y’all know i’m feelin’ happy again
i deleted half my contacts now i feel more content
so everybody better swerve unless you lookin’ for a dent
i’m the general ’round here but i can’t give you no insurance
don’t be grabbin’ the microphone if you go hard as a micro bone
my platform h-lla big but my circle fits in a mobile home
mind power tough when i’m home alone
no macaulay culkin but i’m talkin’ the cracks in the open doors
like i’m still doin’ construction just walked in the rap scene
look around for a minute, went back to the country
met some rock dudes, chill and smoke a joint out back
when [?] creeker charted top five three weeks and a half
and that scary from the wolves
but i stay dustin’ ’em off with rooster feathers as we speak
from this point i ain’t doin’ no f-ckin’ [?] elites
gotta keep it real to get a feature with me
i ain’t no stuart little boy and i ain’t lookin’ for cheese
give a f-ck if his cheddar, swiss, or parmesan with garlic and sh-t
no new friends, good chillin’ in the cut though
can’t be with this fifty ’cause i like hangin’ with the cutthroats
i don’t feel like babblin’, my point i have established is
so when your homies ask “what the h-ll is all that racket skin?”
just tell ’em it’s a fella with an orange “v” on his sweater
volunteered to be a beast up on the microphone whenever
no matter the weather, sun, sleet, or eruptin’ volcano
who chews tobacco and swallows dip just to clear out his vocals
who likes to stone cold stunna motherf-ckers through wrestlemania tables
f-ck the system and the god d-mn labels
church (church, church, church)
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