[Intro]
Church
Hey shoutout DuaneTV
Shoutout Knox Hill
Shoutout HollaAtKrazy
I'ma fit all of y'all in these mugs one day
Church
Listen to this track b-bitch

[Verse]
I ain't the regular, peep my appearance it's evident
My data is prevalent, still remain relevant
Never civil just like a damn Confederate
Can't even say hey y'all in a song without somebody sayin' my rhymes are rhetoric
Damn, who you tryna throw off? Not me, I got a level head
Not to mention I'm droppin' these bitches and holdin' every little bit of my leverage
And when I drop the rope these bottom feeders gonna die lookin' dried out and desperate
Who the fuck said I can't rap? Shut up bitch, you deaf as shit
Church, all I do is preach, I'll retire and become a fuckin' reverend
Nope, I am not a God! Yes, fame is a facade
Maybe I should watch what I say before I end up dead in my own yard
Sight, point, aim, fire! Reload, again for the second time
I'm underground and untouchable like a war bunker in a hillside
Been rollin' stoned since "Rolling Stoned" so now my brain's like fully blown
These irises inside my eyes are surroundin' two big black holes
Stay poppin' out of that underground and lovin' the game like Whac-A-Mole
Last time I grabbed the hammer I hammered down on a hater's soul
I'm diamond cut from a rock that looks oddly different
Only reason you point is well, look at me, I'm indigenous
People like "Stop it, stick to country", I ride beats so good they fuck me
I go hard, spit out rap babies, no Plan B or Trojans on me
I make studios infernos, smell that Stetson, wood, and Marlboro
Lieutenant Dan opponents legs 'cause I'm one they will not walk on
Bitch I run it in the forest, you can bet a pretty Jenny
I spit so much Bubba Gump my saliva shrimp boats with me
Fuck bein' cold I'm frostbit, if rap's a sport I'm offense
If rap's a jail I jump fence, if mainstream's cops I dodge shit
And every dog has its day, they don't want to hear me bark kid
So I'm just sneakin' on the porch deliverin' the dog shit
Ears up like a German Shepherd, put a buckshot in your spinal cord
Lookin' like the Soggy Bottom Boys found Kevin Gates and an AUX cord
Yeah, Upchurch, down here Lord, I realize what I am here for
I'm about to write the biggest mass murder and not even go to hell for it
I'm an artistic marksman parkin' in darkness just watch me
Spartan kick 'em in pits of darkness 'til there's no carcass chartin'
So let me load up the Kraken, I'm droppin' 'em off
Although somebody give you a couple of acres and a stack of some coffins
So when I "blah, blah-blah-blah, blah, blah, blah, blah"
We ain't even gotta go blood drain it or nothin'
First 48, yep, that's where I learned to be murderous
Creek Squad, sup, yeah, they ain't gonna murder us
Even if I die I'll come back as a big tornado
Blow folks away with no guitar or cello
Just take the papers, be a tree head fellow
Don't cry about life, weepin' willow