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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