Yelawolf, DJ Muggs, Jelly Roll - Geeyat Damnit lyrics

God damn it you gettin' it baby
If ain't nobody else told you, Imma tell you
You fuckin' killin' it dawg
Fuck, I'm so fuck proud of you dawg

Yea, Lilke a bunch of
Married bitches on broadway, who don't
All bars no singles, at the bar no singles
All chips no pringles, stacking
I'm an anomaly and hogs dude fly
A quarter pack the order sack
Five fingers the pigskin
Deliver the package from 'Bama porch side
Reeling up a catch from flowing
The keys port side
Sushi, raw focus, four eyes
Gucci, still floating, low tide
Got a panoramic on the Atlantic
Got the foreign strippers to
Pouring up the liquor
I just told a Cannon, stop it, quit it
This hoe was barely standing
I keep it cold with the ultra
The snow was ever landing
Leopard shorts nu fur, necklace all sorts
Reckless four letter words
Fuck, fuck, bitch, shit
Stumble out the PJ's, what's the business
Snakeskins on the pavement let the footprints
Of the greatest on the tarmac
Zilla, call the black car back
I'm in a black tall hat
51-50 bandana tied, boy what you call that
Crazy, crazy's on the lazy, and
I'm crazy fuckin' busy
So get busy fuckin' pay me
Look, sign up check, sign up
Check, sign up check
The strip with a real nice look
Hit the club with the clique
Catch a bitch like stuck
Cut a loose, got a dip, gotta work, no luck
I left a coke on the
Table, cause I'm a gentleman
Yet sort of morbid
She blew a line like a porpoise orifice
Hah, porpoise oriface, of course she did
Yo, if I Swipe this credit card at the pool
None of you kids will make it back to school
Shot to Creek Water, 2, 3, 4, 5
You'll be on the bird
Scooter catchin' D-U eyes
Drunk on the Instagram
That's a social acronym acrobatic rap shit
Flippin' syllables from out the pen
Out my head
I'm out the two door Acura into the van
Chevy steel, heavy wheels, no algebra
No college grand
Common sense, logical lobby damn
Flip the mill it's simple mad
Me plus the instruments, plus
A Piccasso like mine, yea I pay the rent
Maybe by the trailer park
Maybe just for my man pinwheel yea
My head spinning like windmilling
Weakening burnings
I'm dead chillin' cause I been killin'
Low fashion
Juxtaposing my net worth like a Chanel
Black person a Cadillac purse
Grayhound you see who's running up the
Track first, but ain't chasin' rabbit's
I'm chasin' your favorite classic
I'm making the ladies basket case
They baking the cookies
I brought milk and prophylactics
All for the nookie
No limp biscuit, no fake pimp shit
Real pimp shit
Break a leg and walk back limping
Y'all fuckin' stuttering with it
I got the track skipping
You do the shit for the bitches
She got you backflipping
Good for her, I applied the hustle first
When you're done breaking the bank I left
The box out on the curb
Free willing, that's free will-end
Three Willa sittin' got the
Impala drifting you free