Funky Shit Lyrics - Yelawolf

4 x 

4 x 

Sitting in the back (Oh my god) 

S-Sitting the back (f-f-f-funky shit) 

Peanut jelly box, sitting in the carport 

808 crack, and I'm open like a barndoor 

Beer bottle cap, put 'em in the floor 

Set âE˜em in the floor, what a metaphor is this? 

Kind of like? with Travis 

Eat it up, beat it up? atlas 

Where should I go? Put âE˜em in a cereal bowl 

In Alabama, then I holler out âEœCheerioâE 

Look at that shit,? like elastic 

And let it go like a mac? 

S-Sipping on the green, feeling like I'm seeing Patrick 

Got beans in the mattress, magic 

Make you want to jump on a fat bitch 

Ooo got to have it 

(boss) Send the wolf, pick a thing 

On a pekingese bitch, go go gadget 

(Owh) I'm all the way from the gutter 

Flick a cigarette butt from a Chevrolet pickup 

Geeked up on 7 Up 

Got a centimeter? Wall up on a run like a cheetah? well, that'd be the day 

Put you up shit creek 

Paddle be away, hat to the side 

Holler at you homie 

What's the matter with you babe? 

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Sitting in the back with the bass on boom 

Trunk gon shake, and the wheels on zoom 

American classic, trashy tunes 

L.A. to Alabama, from noon to noon 

They saying, (oh my god, that's some funky shit) 

(Oh my god, that's some funky shit) 

(Oh my god, that's some funky shit) 

Oh my god, that's some funky shit 

And I'm a Beastie Boy? and a bowl cut 

Skater when a skater wasn't cool 

When it was just, âEœso what? Fuck you dudeâE 

Well fuck you too? with a backpack 

I'll bust your fruit 

I'm all about constructing my paper 

Kind of like a pocket full of Elmer's Glue 

Squeeze the bottle, turn the milk 

Churn the butter, get the cheese tomorrow 

I got a lock on my profit 

No exits, no keys tomorrow 

But I got steeze to borrow 

Some Famous kicks to match 

If I got a big sign, I'll rap 

As long as TV got sticks to crack 

So hit a drumroll, I'll jump in like a jump rope 

Watch 

Acapella like an elevator? 

While the operator labeled my fucking high tops 

Rhythm like a clock, I'm scotch 

You would've thought, it was written 

But it's not 

Rag hanging out them? jeans 

Not a gangbanger but a banger who sings 

And momma don't you worry about a single thing 

Really though, cause daddy brought charcoal, and gasoline 

And we cooking up tonight, t-bones, pinto beans 

Photos 

Yeah, why stop now? 

Put âE˜em in the trunk 

Let âE˜em feel the sound 

That they don't pop it 

Let âE˜em feel the rhyme till he finds the locket 

808 weighs a ton, so drop it 

Watch your feet, while I rock the beat 

Going all out, no private seat 

I don't walk if I can ride the beat 

But wouldn't you though? Don't lie to me 

Of course you would, catapult syllables 

Got up on my horse in the woods, whoa 

Magical, sorcerer goods 

Steal from the rich put more in the hood 

Natural, born with a wood 

Fuck âE˜em all, I'm right above âE˜em all 

But you could butt talk, if a? fall 

Out with a motherfucker with a sluggish crawl 

Chug till I can't chug at all 

Not a frat boy, I'm a rap boy 

In Hollywood, like Aykroyd 

But I read my script with a southern drawl 

I run home when mother calls 

Cause mother's got a switch 

Yeah, she's a wolf too 

That makes me a son of a bitch