Artist: Yelawolf Album: Love Story Song: Johnny Cash Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Yelawolf] The window's cracked on the Chevrolet My cigarette's in the ashtray The engine's off and the radio's, down So nervous my whole body shakes The parking lot's full of people and They ready to see the preacher man Time to open up for the main act I guess that makes me a deacon I promise that I won't let me down And check myself in the mirror one time Say my prayer and then I shake the ground Light another smoke and step outside Walk inside and take a look around As I try to remember all of my lines Guess it's time for me to face the crowd And give the people my time, uhh [Chorus] Johnny Cash... Johnny Cash... Johnny Cash... Johnny Cash... Johnny Cash [Yelawolf] These people standin on front row Tryna see through me like a window I'm wearin my soul on my, sleeve But they look at me through a pinhole All I see is this opportunity To see at least one of you in me But I can't seem to win 'em over so I swallow the humility Fifteen minutes to hold 'em down And I'm just wishin that it would fly by It's like my whole world hits the ground All I wanted to do is have a good time Hold me under but I will not drown All I really know how to do is survive Next time that I come to your town I'll be the fuckin headline, uhh [Chorus] [Yelawolf] I'm not supposed to be this person I suppose I'm not supposed to be this rapper pokin holes at stereotypes or to write this juxtaposin flow to beats it chose I hold the microphone and out me goes this songs and quotables Call me nasty, say I stink, well hit the sink and hold your nose Cause I'm about as convincible, as a bum in stolen clothes 'til they go at those, I got dreams like fish got gills I can't survive in this lake water without a deal But I can build Noah's Ark without a power drill Look at this crowd like it's a battlefield Tell 'em my travels, my triumphs, my failures, my family loud and clear Let 'em off, judge, I don't care how they feel Fuck it what do I care? I'm my personal shrink Throw my heart down on the ground, stomp it, use the blood for the ink I'm used to purple and pink bruises, so thanks for the tools It's just a brick from the mansion; another stitch in the pants of a Johnny Cash [Chorus]