Testo Box Chevy 7 - Yelawolf
Testo della canzone Box Chevy 7 (Yelawolf), tratta dall'album Ghetto Cowboy
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Yeah
If I see two Maybachs, I'ma park it in the middle
Throw my keys at the butler and then get 'em
No ID, I'ma walk up through the middle
Candy-coated whip like a pocket full of Skittles
Money in my pocket but I don't know how to act right
Glock in the glove box like a flashlight
Cub in the mop-top in the backlight
Zilla Gorilla he's a killer, that's night night
Legends in the fog
Got me a Chevy, baby, and I'ma let it crawl
Got me a pack ready, and I'ma make a call
Gettin' your racks ready and maybe we can talk, y'all
Know we get down motherfuckers
In niche Nashville done got beat up, yeah
Talkin' shit on the Woozy got crack
Left him on his back, left his fucking feet up
We just bad motherfuckers
Bad motherfuckers
Yeah, some bad motherfuckers better listen to the song
Tryna be good but they wanna do me wrong
So give me that Loc in the tone
Ghetto cowboy stay ready
All night long let 'em mop
I hear 'em talkin', gawkin', when they see me walkin'
To my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I see you stalkin', hawkin', with your coffin
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
You mad I can tell it, tell it, 'cause you jealous
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I pop that trunk and nail it, send it sailin'
From my 1979
If I get drunk I'ma leave her, come and pick her up tomorrow
Don't get behind the wheel if I'm pickin' up a bottle
Never roll the dice but, yeah I hit the lotto
Swung to the dirt yeah livin' by the motto
Catfish Billy trappin' out the Yamaco
Rebel, I'm a rebel like David Allen Coe
Kickin' in a red pan, cooking that dough
Brenda does your dog bite, no child no
Legends in the fog
Never go back to being broke not at all
Gotta gold plaque up on the studio wall
I had to go back to get it from my Papa, uh
Alabama, Georgia, Tenenssee
A recipe for disaster, put the beat up
Me and the Chevy's like pastors to Jesus
A haystack, I'm that needle
We just bad motherfuckers
Bad motherfuckers
Some bad motherfuckers better listen to the song
Tryna be good but they wanna do me wrong
So give me that Loc in the tone
Ghetto cowboy stay ready
All night long let 'em mop
I hear 'em talkin', gawkin', when they see me walkin'
To my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I see you stalkin', hawkin', with your coffin
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
You mad I can tell it, tell it, 'cause you jealous
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I pop that trunk and nail it, send it sailin'
From my 1979 (Box!), 1979 (Box!)
I hear 'em talkin', gawkin', when they see me walkin'
To my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I see you stalkin', hawkin', with your coffin
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
You mad I can tell it, tell it, 'cause you jealous
Over my 1979, 1979 (Box!)
I pop that trunk and nail it, send it sailin'
From my 1979 (From my, from my, from my)
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
Oh, oh
Giddy-up, giddy-up
1979
Oh, oh
Credits
Writer(s): Michael Wayne Atha, William Booker Washington, Matt Hayes
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