Letra da Música Kickin' de Yelawolf

Bass
Who's the one from the pine, whaddup yall?
I'm the one from the grind, I know yall
Go below the Dixie line, fuck wit me,
I'll show ya how to deal the quarter pound
off the rippy, off the rippy
I'm catfish, bitch
I am packing this
rusty steak knife (who?) pump action
Nadda nothin buddy don't even bother (holler) him
I told you i'm cat fish, I'm quick to swaller brim
Young gangsters bustin wanna act bad (bad)
Wasting gun shells like Bush in Baghdad
take him to the hood I got the chopper aimed so
bet ya he'll be running like a motherfuckin hoe
Glass breakin I'll have your mother duckin low
Back down ha now that's a motherfuckin joke
Southern boys got hot butter for your soul
Cracker barrel full of dynamite so lets go

My rattlin trunk, got them bobble heads lookin
rear view mirrors got the world sittin crooked
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters
I'm playin those heaters
I got that Fadder
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin

Gimmie the kenwood, these kicks are tempting
I'm blowin this shit up like bottles of Jim Beam
Mouth is dropping, models are modeling
vibrating seats make knees start wobbling
If you want it bad well then I'll give you my pickle
I'm so off the chain that I can't pedal my bicycle
Ain't got no Petrol, still get it crunk though
Leavin my tire marks in hip hop centerfolds
Oh!
I know that amplifiers heated up
Oh!
I know the DJ wanna speed it up
My shits snappin, it ain't snap music
But you can lean back and throw it up, come on
These Alabama boys connect with Atlanta boys
Raised by them gun lovers who load up the banana boats
Drivin them Chevy's and throwin Ds on them cadillacs
Speakers and tweeters beatin my whip got that rattle back

My rattlin trunk, got them bobble heads lookin
rear view mirrors got the world sittin crooked
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters
I'm playin those heaters
I got that Fadder
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin

Yeah I'm Southern
I'm crazy, I'm drivin, Chevys daily
Hollar at G (hollar at G), burnin tires
(Burnin tires), I'm trashy (I'm Trashy), I'm fire
Yeah
I'll stick 'em good, I'll show dem up
I'll show them hood, that I don't give a fuck
From the trailer park
I held king
Don't get any part
So watch your spelling,
And they ring ding they ringa ling ling
cellular blowin up, they wanna ding a ling
I'm a leading scene
The pimp of the leading team
We number one of all 7 of dixie mafia family

My rattlin trunk, got them bobble heads lookin
rear view mirrors got the world sittin crooked
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters
I'm playin those heaters
I got that Fadder
I am kick kickin kick kick kick kickin
Kick kickin kick kick kick kickin