Lyrics Upchurch – Keep It Country
Text:
Raise hell and eat cornbread, bitch
Upchurch
I don’t listen to Drake, I’m going hunting
Got them .35 Mickey T’s humming
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
Mama’s cornbread still bumping
And my brother’s always getting into something
K5 full of honkies going mudding
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
Lift kits and big tits dipping beer, though
Is that what these folks think I’m really here for (Hell No!)
So put your eyes on me and let me tell you what I think
Take it how you want it, my opinion shouldn’t make ya blink
Hip-hop, what a word, google that term
I ain’t a part of any clique or any gang or any word
I ain’t no damn idiot just begging for a sedative
I’m here to tell you how I always be rebelling
I used to put RC cans in the wheel of my bicycle
Now I’m rolling on 35, chill as a icicle
Yeah, I came up from nothing, now my phone is constantly buzzing
‘Cause somebody told somebody they had to come tell me something, I’ll love it
I’m nothing but a Tennessee country bunking with Cali
Colorado, Kentucky and Alabama, bumping, what’s up
Small town but I’m doing big shit (Cheatham County)
Backwoods, got it tatted on my skin
I don’t listen to Drake, I’m going hunting
Got them .35 Mickey T’s humming
And I’m sipping on a little something-something
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
And my brother’s always getting into something
K5 full of honkies going mudding
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
Tennessee time ticking, Kentucky Fried Chicken
Buy Tonky-ass trucks, spray paint it with gears missing
I’m on mission of getting people to listen in Dixie
And whistle to all the lyrics, a hell of a team spirit
I’m cold, boy shit slick but I won’t get stuck
Unwrench the guns laying in the back of the truck
Hah, to hell with everybody I just stopped giving a shit
My neck of the wood there’s no room for superficial
Thunder Row like a Tennessee hailstorm
Let the camera flashes flood me like a river bound mobile home
Let the haters knock me down, wall up some old bricks
I’m still a fucking beast coming out of the damn south
People used to talk me down, now they wanna call me up
Exs wanna message me after they done drank enough
Talking ’bout they missing me and they never wanna cheat again
Sorry I’m too busy laying with a Puerto Rican chick
I don’t listen to Drake, I’m going hunting
Got them .35 Mickey T’s humming
And I’m sipping on a little something-something
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
Mama’s cornbread still bumping
And my brother’s always getting into something
K5 full of honkies going mudding
And I’ma keep, keep, keep, keep it country
