Lyrics Upchurch – Top Back (Freestyle)
Text:
Church
Man I was 15 years old when this shit came out
God dang, hah
Ayy, ayy
I got the Voss Power T in the back glass of that Cummins
Turkey feather in the vinyl that Ithaca get ’em runnin’
They wishin’ my ass would fumble so the game could get a turn around
But I run this shit just like the colts from Rocky Top to the NFL
I’m retirin’ so big I make a brush guard outta all the gold
And give it to my kids so they can be pimpin’ like daddy-o
Long haired country boy, pro-charged Challenger
Dixieland blood, 2.0 of my caliber
And I be in that Dodge, General Church with fine tuned
My Mopar stay floatin’ like a summertime pontoon
No shirt, no shoes, no motherfuckin’ problem
I am from the cut and I don’t hang around with goblins
Goblins, goblins, I ain’t scared of nothin’
On some hills have eyes shit, the graves you know I got them
Articles written about me, people talk shit out of spite
But I can care less I’m high in my Corvette tonight
I like my blunts rolled back, my big tires hella bald
I be drivin’ one lane roads when it’s heavy on the fog
I still slide across the hood like I’m always watchin’ TV Land
Crew cut with my Wranglers, hella steady with my drivin’ hand
I see rappers pushin’ daisies so I pulled out jumper cables
Then I shocked the world so much I guess I broke the voltage meter
Hey Church what if you are accepted would it be weird?
Why so you guys could lie just to sit me here
So I can smell like weed and outside temperature beer
And wish I was somewhere else with my real skins
Give it to me I’ll hand it back like I don’t want that shit
I like my circle hella small, my pistola hella loaded
My career so Eastwood, I’ma change my name to Clint
Homie keep the spark in this bitch, my pockets fulla flint
Could not drown my in stagnant water in the middle of Michigan
My tread Ford Tough, my rubber sponsored my Michelin
So I’ll be runnin’ tempo when I smash into that mainstream shit
Doors locked, shaved, panels bulletproof all the way around
Lookin’ like DMX in a Hummer except I got a 50 cal
And I don’t know where the hood, where the hood, where the hood at
I’m from corner stores, nightcrawlers, fish hooks with a curved hat
But I know when Walmart closes, when they stop sellin’ guns
And I can tell you tobacco’s cheaper at the Shell by the car wash
I’m the one in that vroom vroom when the town is too quiet
No TV’s up in my house only broken safety’s on rifles
Don’t be trippin’ on me Santa Claus didn’t bring me shit
I’m cold as the North Pole, he’ll shoot your eye out kid
I like my beat down low, county music cranked up
Black and tan in my seat, fat J rolled up
I got that Kel-Tec loaded with my seat laid back
Weed in the toolbox, loud .30-06
I like my beat down low, county music cranked up
Black and tan in my seat, fat J rolled up
I got that Kel-Tec loaded with my seat laid back
Weed in the toolbox, loud .30-06 ayy