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letra de rhec shit - upchurch

[intro]
let the bandplay, let the bandplay

[verse 1: upchurch]
it ain’t my fault that your b-tch wanna touch me everytime i step on stage
it ain’t my fault i got a quarter million dollar house, 25 years of age
it ain’t my fault that i’m redneck ballin’
with a hick town squad and i’m livin’ like trump
ask anybody in the 615 b-tch
everybody know i got that b-mp (oh yeah)
and i ain’t even from the city
but city slickin’ b-tches show me their t-tties in every venue i visit
so keep talkin’ that bullsh-t on all of my playlists
’cause this a big boy game, you can’t even play this
i know i ain’t the first one to spit that slang words
i came out two years ago now they know the boy dangerous
no diss songs from a poppin’ artist ’cause they know
i light that -ss up, drop the mic, get flame thrown
i got that heat like a [?]
every time drama starts i don’t even get nervous
if you cross into my lane motherf-cker better swerve
i’ll be out in the cut, no cell phone service
boy the buck knife sharp, don’t slip get murdered
don’t come into my studio if you ain’t been heard of
i’m exclusive all you labels shove your artists, don’t service
i ain’t even went hard, six alb-ms and it still all charted

[chorus: upchurch]
if you ain’t runnin’ with the team, i don’t wanna know you
rhec, i reckon we k!llin’ sh-t and takin’ over yeah
all i do is rhec sh-t b-tch
all i do is rhec sh-t b-tch
if you ain’t runnin’ with the team, i don’t wanna know you
rhec, i reckon we k!llin’ sh-t and takin’ over yeah
all i do is rhec sh-t b-tch
all i do is rhec sh-t b-tch, ha

[verse 2: emzyg]
i prolly shouldn’t do what i’m finna do to these b-tches
grim reaper, grab the heater, i have her goin’ missin’
sick of people showin’ love, time to start dissin’
[?] dog run over the trunk of the civic
i’m feelin’ tipsy and i brought my pistol with me
then i bring the people won’t be too many rats in my city
i got some rats in their 50’s they super statin’ they gritty
how the f-ck you think my f-ckin’ sh-t can eat
you’s a duck, i see you quackin’ just like a punk
that’s why you don’t get respect and all your homies set you off
’cause you’re phony, fake as f-ck, prolly takes it in the b-tt
while you gargle up a mouth full of nut
now listen up little b-tch (b-tch)
i’ve been through sh-t that’ll make you sick
and i’ve died three times, trick ready to die again
when it comes to freestylin’ you know i don’t need a pen
sippin’ gin in the backwoods creek squad sh-t

[outro]
creek squad sh-t
creek squad sh-t

- upchurch

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