Huckleberry Lyrics - Upchurch

Son, I've been in the woods for like a week 

Smokin' weed and gettin' back to myself 

Hehe, ha ha ha, yeah 

Church 

Ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy 

Get the Yoder, load the Axxis, tilt the world right off it's axis 

I stumbled up in this bitch and I ain't even need no practice 

Babe Ruth is foul ball, son you know I'm always catchin' those 

Amphibious with flows like I run the game with webbed toes 

Yeah there that boy go, rooster necklace all gold 

Diamonds in that mug cost more than the truck he drive yo 

Damn straight motherfucker, my career come from the dirt 

The same ground I got them maters from to add to my Bud Light son 

Don't get me piped up, Chattanooga shine son 

Gettin' drunk like a farmer, put the V8 in the mud 

Fuck it, let it get stuck, get the tractor for the truck 

Life's a wench in a rut, if you gotta crank it up 

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I'll be your Huckleberry, I'll be your dark and scary 

I'll be your man of the hour, Mr. Church don't sour 

And I'll be those KC lights in a farm boy's truck 

Granddaddy's gun in a 1500 

A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker 

Man I love that feelin' of blue lights on a Friday 

One lane, one way, no way, roll a J 

In my Carhartt toboggan, and I be flexin' like my driveway 

It's a runway, fuck Hollywood the long way 

I got dirt in my nails and there's nails in my dirt 

Run barefoot behind me and your feet gon' hurt 

My little piggy hit the market, your little piggy look whacked off 

Y'all country but can't even get the blade up in the hacksaw 

Chopped wood for the Gram let the wood get wet 

I got bricks stacked up, with a tarp on it bitch 

If you see me swingin' the axe it ain't because of bonfire 

It's 'cause I went crazy and live in a house made of cross ties 

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I'll be your Huckleberry, I'll be your dark and scary 

I'll be your man of the hour, Mr. Church don't sour 

And I'll be those KC lights in a farm boy's truck 

Granddaddy's gun in a 1500 

A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker 

Mu-Mustang like a Socs, leather jacket like Dali 

Outsider of my town, switchblade in my jacket 

They don't make that soda pop pop, no carbonation added 

River water in my veins to muddy water I'm an addict 

Raisin' hell like I planted devil seeds then I grew it 

Oh wait that's weed, hah damn I feel stupid 

Devil's lettuce on the ranch I wish the ghost could be some peppers 

Peter Piper picked a Chevy, now his truck is full of bad bitches 

I'm rockin' rags up on these riches 

Built my house in all these ditches 

Instead of leavin' my home town 

I settled down and now I fucks with it 

It's Mr. Cheatham County, talk slow, rap fluid 

Spit flames so much you think I drink starter fluid 

I'll be your Huckleberry, I'll be your dark and scary 

I'll be your man of the hour, Mr. Church don't sour 

And I'll be those KC lights in a farm boy's truck 

Granddaddy's gun in a 1500 

A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker