Artist: Yelawolf Album: Love Story Song: Whiskey in a Bottle Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Yelawolf] Yeah... Still on that ass like, handcuffs up in ya like hand-puppets, make a mute holla You should've jumped in that Impala Homie, refrigerators never seen +Ice Baby+, not +Vanilla+ Not a breeze on the hill'll make a flame, grab a chinchilla Quite like the words I built up to, fuck guppies I see food and I hush puppies So give me that king, crab and I'll break his shell You seen that? Well fuck him if he don't take it well So crack the top of that hot, shakin ale And say "Free Young Struggle" who's not makin bail He got popped by the Feds, fuck the cops! Take an L Fuck it, take M-N-O-P, learn how to spell I'll pull up to the gate and will skate on these country faggots And until then, fuck 'em, huh, they can have it Slumerican means, Slum American breed Gutter raised with worldwide dreams, yeah [Chorus: Yelawolf] Put your hands to the sky I'm a bullet in the barrel with a hairpin trigger now Yeah I'm a landslide I'm a head case train wreck avalanche comin down Put your hands to the sky I'm a ready-made party, I'm whiskey in a bottle now La la la la la la la la lahhhhh I'm whiskey in a bottle now [Yelawolf] Still on that gas like, the bottom of my signature shoe 'Bama red, I'm on that ass like Alabama did LSU Goose egg, oh lord Bible Belt raised, in your mouth like a cold sore Roll Fords? Nah, Roll Tide and roll Chevy's My momma rolls joints, smoke rolls off of the tip Daddy's a rollin stone, I'm rollin in shit with these pigs In the Southside, who you rollin with in the sticks? With hair weawes and air streams Cigarette stained walls, fuck, I can barely breathe Spittin shutgun pellets out of my fuckin chili bowl .. But am I a hillbilly? No! I'm the truth behind these fuckin illusionists Yellin redneck, you about as red as the color blue is Call me a redneck, and I'll just tattoo it Because of the abuse and I use it as therapy in music So [Chorus] [Yelawolf] Still on that grass like, John Deere's This yard is already cut, you can't get no work here Uhh, you fags thought it was swag you was stealin It turns out, I got no peers Just years of street smarts, so here you go retards Come hit this bull's-eye, I'll give ya three darts One, my last album flopped; two, it wasn't my time Three, my fuckin momma sellin my pajamas online (La la la la la la la la lahhhhh) But guess what? (I'm whiskey in a bottle now) Fuckin right I'm aged, I'm dirty-3 I'm not a child who plays with rap, to get a piece Don't clap, for no MC who's wack, then get a free slap Fuck out my car and I'm smashed, in a Caprice, I'm Jack Sippin still, whippin wood wheels Truck on steroids, illegal to play ball but damn it how good it feels Drop that black card Park in the back yard, baby fire up the grill It's party time~! [Chorus]