Yelawolf - Whiskey In A Bottle lyrics

[Verse 1] Still on that a** like Handcuff's up in it like Hand-puppets makin' you holler You should've jumped in that impala homie Refrigerators never seen ice baby Not vanilla, not a reason that Yela make a flame grab a chinchilla Quite like the words I pulled up to f** guppies, I see food in a hush puppy So give me that king crap And I'll break a shell You seen that? Well f** it, if he don't take it well So crack the top of that hot, shaking ale And say "free Young Struggle" who's not making bail He got popped by the feds f** the cops! Take a nail f** it take M-N-O-P, learn how to spell I'll pull up to the gate And we'll skate on this country f*ggots And until then, f** 'em, they can have it Slumerican means Slum American breed Gutter raised with worldwide dreams, yeah [Hook] Put your hands to the sky I'm a bullet in a barrel with a hair pin trigger now And I'mma landslide I'm a head case train wreck avalanche comin' down Put your hands to the sky I'm a ready made party I'm whiskey in a bottle now Lalalalalalalalalaa I'm whiskey in a bottle now [Verse 2] Still on that gas like The bottom of my signature shoe, 'Bama red I'm on that a** like Alabama did LSU You said "Oh lord" Bible Belt raised In your mouth like a cold sore Rolled Ford's? Nah roll tide and rode Chevy's My mama rolls joints Smoke rolls off with a timp Daddy's a rolling stone I'm rolling in sh** with these pigs And the south side Who you rolling with in the sticks? With hair weawes and airstreams Cigarette stained walls f**, I can barely breathe Spittin' shutgun pellets Out of my f**in' chili bowl.. But am I a hill billy, no! I am the truth behind these f**in' illusionist Yellin' redneck, you about as red as the color blue is Call me a redneck, and I just tatoo it Because of the abusin' I use it as therapy in music So.. [Hook] [Verse 3] Still on that gra** like John Deers this yard is already cut You can't get no work here, uh You f*gs started with swag, you was stealing It turns out I got no peers Just years of street smarts So here you go retards Come hit this bulls eye I’ll give you three darts One, my last album flopped Two, it wasn't my time Three, my f**in' mama's selling my pajamas online (Lalalalalalalalalaa) But guess what? (I'm whiskey in a bottle now) f**in' right, I'm aged I’m dirty-3, I'm not a child who plays with crack to get a piece Don't clap, for no MC who's wack Then get a free slap f** out my car when I smashed in a Caprice I’m Jack sippin' still Whippin' wood wheels Truck on steriods Illegal to play ball But damn it how good it feels Drop that black card Park in the backyard Baby fire up the grill It's party time [Hook]