Cornbread

Yeah! Church, Church, Church, Church (Church, Church) They don't want me to have nothin' Ha, fuck 'em! Creek Squad! They say I'm stuck up, nah, got some jingle in my Wranglers But the only people sayin' that to me are just some strangers Yeah, you wasn't with me in that Ranger posted in the front yard You wasn't hangin' with me when I was broke and on that rooster farm You wasn't fuckin' with me when my Ford was done with rattle can Bitch, I'm still the same me, you know what the deal is It's 51, 54 with the Pond Creek Road Chicken Willie's grandson with the tattoos on 'em I'm the fuckin' rebel dreamin' in 2018 That's why all these haters are constantly fuckin' hatin' on me 'Cause I can pull up in that 6.2, white paint with the SS I'm a white boy, been broke, but now I'm gettin' that cornbread I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread I ride around in something filthy, bitch I'm gettin' more head Got the John Deere green on the stepside Z 71 joints, ain't nobody smokin' with me (ayy) Pullin' up in Walker Texas Ranger (ayy) Psycho social with a trigger finger (ayy) Cowhide in my bedroom Closet full of smell good and denim Wranglers (ayy) Down south raised, boy you know I'm stayin' in the sticks (you know it) Backwoods music man, Billy The Kid with the stick Creek, creek, creek, to the motherfuckin' squad Tattoos coverin' my body, that I got up in a barn (yeah) I still roll with the same honkeys like I did back in the day though (true) This country boy lightin' the 'Ville up every day it's day glow Yeah, Broadway lurkin' white lightin' under the 'Vette My bitch naturally lookin' like she always wearin' a corset I drop the top on the LS, show my ass in Music City RHEC on my grave, find my ass in Ashland City I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread I ride around in something filthy, bitch I'm gettin' more head Got the John Deere green on the stepside Z 71 joints, ain't nobody smokin' with me I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread On my outskirts shit, I don't fuck with Music City I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread On my outskirts shit, I don't fuck with Music City, no Ah, Stoner, ayy, ayy Stone, baby, stone Yeah, 6-1-5 Creek Squad (ayy, ayy, ayy) I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread I ride around in something filthy, bitch I'm gettin' more head Got the John Deere green on the stepside Z 71 joints, ain't nobody smokin' with me I guess you ain't heard I raise hell and get the cornbread