Ones Like Me
Uh
When they put me in this box
They should have throwed away the key
I done spit so many bars
I got construction worker teeth
Yeah, concrete on a calm beat, clearcoat on the top me
Tennessee and source hot beats, big foot with the hard feet
Come to my neck of the woods and I'll flip-flop your Jeep
All the way down a big ass hill into the shit's creek with no cell reception
If country rap is a euphemism
I'm a pinnacle on an independent prism
Yeah, I got them like "How the fuck he do it? Yeah, he must be a Free Mason"
Or gettin' broke in by the Illuminati in an experimental type basements, yeah
An' I'm like fuck y'all that's my credit, not even Baphomet can come and take it
Unless he wants to be up on my wall with the rappers I killed last season
Yeah, country rap, no cap at all, unless that motherfuckers made of straw
Still sittin' on my front porch in my underwear scratchin' my balls
And I don't chase fame I let the fame chase me
And I ain't gonna change or let the change make me
And I don't need a camera, I don't watch TV
So don't ask me 'bout celebrities
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
For the ones like me
You know what you lackin' (lackin')
Hard work and passion (passion)
These wack ass rappers (huh)
Talk shit, just actin'
How you goin' against the grain? Just askin'
We ain't even in the same lane, you trash man
Man, kiss the hands, you don't deserve a body bag
Fans come out to your show, they want their money back
Youtube, revenue streams, money stacked to the ceilin'
Can't see you dummy
Fuck a record deal I'd rather sit here with a beer can
Truck so high like I'm in a fuckin' deer stand
Look at my hands, callouses, workin'
Tougher than nails, you faggots is nervous
Softer than baby shit, I'm on my crazy shit
E.S.T. 1980 bitch, until the wheels fall off
Then my hair turns gray when they put me in my grave
Bury me a G like back in 2Pac's day
Me and Church the new version of 2Pac and Dre then
And I don't chase fame I let the fame chase me
And I ain't gonna change or let the change make me
And I don't need a camera, I don't watch TV
So don't ask me 'bout celebrities
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
For the ones like me
When they put me in this box
They should have throwed away the key
I done spit so many bars
I got construction worker teeth
Yeah, concrete on a calm beat, clearcoat on the top me
Tennessee and source hot beats, big foot with the hard feet
Come to my neck of the woods and I'll flip-flop your Jeep
All the way down a big ass hill into the shit's creek with no cell reception
If country rap is a euphemism
I'm a pinnacle on an independent prism
Yeah, I got them like "How the fuck he do it? Yeah, he must be a Free Mason"
Or gettin' broke in by the Illuminati in an experimental type basements, yeah
An' I'm like fuck y'all that's my credit, not even Baphomet can come and take it
Unless he wants to be up on my wall with the rappers I killed last season
Yeah, country rap, no cap at all, unless that motherfuckers made of straw
Still sittin' on my front porch in my underwear scratchin' my balls
And I don't chase fame I let the fame chase me
And I ain't gonna change or let the change make me
And I don't need a camera, I don't watch TV
So don't ask me 'bout celebrities
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
For the ones like me
You know what you lackin' (lackin')
Hard work and passion (passion)
These wack ass rappers (huh)
Talk shit, just actin'
How you goin' against the grain? Just askin'
We ain't even in the same lane, you trash man
Man, kiss the hands, you don't deserve a body bag
Fans come out to your show, they want their money back
Youtube, revenue streams, money stacked to the ceilin'
Can't see you dummy
Fuck a record deal I'd rather sit here with a beer can
Truck so high like I'm in a fuckin' deer stand
Look at my hands, callouses, workin'
Tougher than nails, you faggots is nervous
Softer than baby shit, I'm on my crazy shit
E.S.T. 1980 bitch, until the wheels fall off
Then my hair turns gray when they put me in my grave
Bury me a G like back in 2Pac's day
Me and Church the new version of 2Pac and Dre then
And I don't chase fame I let the fame chase me
And I ain't gonna change or let the change make me
And I don't need a camera, I don't watch TV
So don't ask me 'bout celebrities
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
I only celebrate for the ones like me (Ones like me)
Woah, for the ones like me
For the ones like me
Credits
Writer(s): Adam Bradley Calhoun, Thomas Daniel Toner, Ryan Edward Upchurch
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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