Lyrics:
Hey man you must be chokin' High life, the chicks, and chain smokin' Hey shitkicker, you're alright Grass hits the scratch in the back of your
was a ruttin' redneck fallin' into them city girl lips She'd never owned a pair of raw hidin' rope and ridin' shitkickers made to scoot Six inch heels
I'm getting figures from my rap diggers Got my shit-kickers, yo This is for my niggas (Check it out, yo) Guaranteed to make your head rock Tote Glocks
kicked I'm blasted that's it I drop it like a clumsy black bastard I'm gettin' figures from my rap niggas Got my shit-kickers, yo This is for my niggas
shit-kickers like you? The Kingfish do Who gave a party at the Roosevelt Hotel? And invited the whole north half of the state down there for free
and oh it does not relent The good times are killing me Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead The good times are killing me Get sucked
more "one mores" and oh it does not relent. The good times are killing me. Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead. The good times are
said? What have I said again? I regret everything Moral little shit-kickers Liberal asinine pricks Run away - run away as fast as you can From
and oh it does not relent The good times are killing me Shit-kicker, city slickers, who all wanted me dead The good times are killing me Get sucked
insane, drunk off of (?) lush Hush, shit-kicker licker, stronger than Wild Turkey liquor Tryin to entice her, movin to hit her, but I'd rather forget her
the 'uncle' spitter beg a jungle pig to hug mercy. Two 40-below shitkickers tickle the corpses. Duck, the widow maker also manufactures orphans. Manufactures
on every frequency Detonator They call you lucky 13 A trigger tripper A real shit-kicker That cloud above you, that's why I love you That's why I
brain affiliately Over the main gate Quicker than he flickerin' outta pain cave Shitkicker, mini, and busy, in Dark-city, wick lit Tryin to make a shark
I'm wearing black gloves through your mall, I'm rich You wanna check my pockets but I got on my shit-kickers Smoke coming out my fingers again
the castle, you the sad address think the hot that is can't touch the cool that wuz? scuze me while i piss your dust yeah you can call me shitkicker with
never cared for a wife or this shit-kicker life So I drank her unholy wine She witched me good like she said she would Oh, black magic sure feels fine
drills Cattle, cowboys and shit-kickers And the rest of us, waiting for... 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 How did this come to be? You didn't pick me Well,
te' vi flækker Ødemark og flækker Appetitvækker for en shitkicker Problemet det er knallerter, ikk' kællinger der lækker Og nogen gange lær' man bare
rappers Out here buyin' farms and shit Didn't see no gangsta's flеxin' John Deere Before my gap-toothеd ass got my Shitkickers and came here They say
quicker Turnin you yellow like shit-kickers You sound gay Your rhymes is drier than Santa Fe My mind spray mad guerilla war Tactics like I was Shea
shit-kicker Yeah buddy, got that swagger on lock And if a hater step I tear a hater up like Plok Shittin' on these rappers like you'd think they were
wrong with no hip-hop songs But I'm in the mood for a redneck tune, yeah So put your shit-kickers on A flat rock skippin', lawn chair sittin' Cowboy
Til the homie popped the trunk now there's a Panic at the Disco The Smiths out the fingers on the trigger In a Plain White T in my black shitkickers
Til the homie popped the trunk now there's a Panic at the Disco The Smiths out the fingers on the trigger In a Plain White T in my black shitkickers
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