UPCHURCH “No Effort” T-Grizzly Remix (bored)
- Published: 27 June 2019
- OFFICIAL LYRICS
don’t make me come out on that porch in my pajama’s with a AR, I be flippin songs like my first name is Daewon
i be strutting in my jeans like a Levi commercial. Yeahhh, fuck the television i be peelin’ on em patna.
I got better shit to do, you don’t need to find me, I don’t chill with models there’s badder bitches in Tennessee. And they down to tailgate like the Parkin lot full, erybodys Jersey lookin dark and light blue.
I am from the same damn city that gave g-unit the young buck,same city all star shot somebody inside of McDonald’s.
same city struggle Jennings got arrested & went to prison, same city that sang “it’s okay to be itty bitty”.
It’s hard being a rapper cause they don’t know how im livin, If you think there ain’t country boys bumpin gotti you trippin
six strang, to tha boom boom clap, and the trunk space. Souls blacker than a slumerican shirt rack mane.
Nashville aint blockin. I was born out here.
my birth certificate more legitimate than your 360 deal.
watch me bust this 900 add a couple triple kick flips, while bumpin 36 at McDonald’s out on west end.
Just left hella stoned from the nations by the H&H, call my homie tell him police settin at the foreway.
I’m headed back to cheatham hwy 70 the fast way.
only a tourist need gps up on the dash “BAE”
round hear dash boards are for lady’s to put there feet on, so soon as we done swimmin, your towel is up in the tool box.
you tryna hit that sonic and put some vodka in the fruit punch, and stop at the Citco and get one of them White Owl Blunts?
I’m a trailer park boy, no bubbles Ricky or Julian, I’m talkin basketball shorts wife beater wearing hooligans, shout out to show time, remember back In the day when you recorded “low pro’s and I’m fresh out the gate.” And I didn’t go to Hillwood but now I’m chillin on the hilltop.
No school Parkin lot, truck still gettin hot boxed, yeah in one of my songs I stay “I’m stuck on 17” still in the same town doing the same damn shit.
but that’s me, yeah I know I make change, but I ain’t gotta make change to make change, that’s facts in the bank..
it’s my facts in the way, this ain’t a act that I made, it’s the actual way, yeah I’m backwoods raised.
yeahhhhh mutha fucka 615, cause what the fuck is a 629, that’s the overflow of the banjos & neon lights. I don’t no nothin bout this fuckin Instagram life.
So if you buying followers then you just preachin to ya self, and if ain’t no body listening then you foolin ya self.
yeah lil bitch I rhymed word with word, I sheep the herd, your pissed, ima turd, the stinch is herb.
I’m smokin weed off exit 24 cause it’s convienent.
the landfill smells like ass, and my windows hella tinted.
Id rather see a car with blue bands from metro, than a Ashland city intercepter, that’s no joke.
They didn’t pray on my downfall, they prayed for my death drop, that’s why my middle fingers stuck up like I’m kid rock, yeah I bawitabaw with tired bald as recaps, man it’s been 4 years, they still claiming I’m a “short fad”
well mutha fucker go and call geniesss world records, I guess I win for losing, cause I still sell records. I ain’t got no platinums, if I did they would be faded, cause I’d melt them bitches down and make a Chevrolet emblem..
I’m the south side boy, with that south side look, I ain’t got no horses, I got mustangs son, and every street in my town look hella old old, so ima take my ass down all these roads