Upchurch - Huckleberry lyrics

Son, I've been in the woods for like a week
(True)
Smokin' weed and gettin' back to myself
(Church, Church, Church, Church)
Hehe, ha ha ha, yeah church
Ay, ay, ay, ay

Get the Yoder, load the axes
Chop the world right off it's axis
I stumbled up in this bitch and
I ain't even need no practice
Babe Ruth is foul ball
Son you know I'm always catchin' those
Amphibious with flows like I run
The game with webbed toes
Yeah, there that boy go
Rooster necklace all gold
Diamonds in that mug cost more than
The truck he drive yo
Damn straight, motherfucker
My career come from the dirt
The same grain I got them maters from
To add to my Bud Light, son
Don't get me piped up, Chattanooga shine, son
Gettin' drunk like a farmer
Put the V8 in the mud
Fuck it, let it get stuck
Get the tractor for the truck
Life's a wench in a rut
If you gotta crank it up

I'll be your Huckleberry
I'll be your dark and scary
I'll be your man of the hour
Mr church don't sour
And I'll be those KC lights
In a poor boy's truck
Granddaddy's gun in a 1500
A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker

Man, I love that feelin' of
Blue lights on a Friday
One lane, one way, no way, roll a J
In my Carhartt toboggan
I'll be flexin' like my driveway
It's a runway, fuck Hollywood the long way
I got dirt in my nails and
There's nails in my dirt
Run barefoot behind me and
Your feet gon' hurt
My little piggy hit the market
Your little piggy look whacked off
Y'all country but can't even get the
Blade up in the hacksaw
Chop wood for the Gram, let the wood get wet
I got ricks stacked up
With a tarp on it bitch
If you see me swingin' the axe
It ain't because of bonfires
It's 'cause I went crazy and live
In a house made of crossties

I'll be your Huckleberry
I'll be your dark and scary
I'll be your man of the hour
Mr church don't sour
And I'll be those KC lights
In a poor boy's truck
Granddaddy's gun in a 1500
A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker

Mu-Mustang like a Socs
Leather jacket like Dally
Outsider of my town, switchblade in my jacket
They don't make that Sodapop pop
No carbonation added
River water in my veins to
Muddy water I'm an addict
Raisin' hell like I planted devil
Seeds then I grew it
Oh, wait that's weed, haha
Damn I feel stupid
Devil's lettuce on the ranch
I wish the ghost could be some peppers
Peter Piper picked a Chevy
Now his truck is full of bad bitches
I'm rockin' rags up on these riches
Built my house in all these ditches
Instead of leavin' my home town
I settled down and now I fucks with it
It's Mr cheatham County, talk slow, rap fluid
Spit flames so much you think
I drink starter fluid

I'll be your Huckleberry
I'll be your dark and scary
I'll be your man of the hour
Mr church don't sour
And I'll be those KC lights
In a poor boy's truck
Granddaddy's gun in a 1500
A son of a bitch and a crazy motherfucker