Last of a Dying Breed

Oh, yeah
Eh, we're the last of a dying breed

What happened to the soldiers that stood up for something
Instead of all these punk thugs that's no good for nothing?
All these sissy ass crybabies that wanna play the victim
They just do it for attention, better pull up your damn britches boy

I ain't saying that I'm perfect, but I refuse to be worthless
So I choose to keep on working on myself as a better person
And you're the type that'll talk big, a big shot with a soft chin
Ol' fuck boy better calm down when ya talking with some grown men

You're the type that's got loose lips
You show ya gum but don't shoot the shit
You act hard but don't do shit, fuck you and your crew bitch!
You're the type that'll go to jail then call ya girl up raising hell
Talking bout you need canteen, tell that dude to go fuck his self!
Especially what he did to you, all that bullshit that he put you through
Lying cheating, put his hands on you, fuck that dude, you too damn cute

Don't waste your time on a fuckboy
Don't spend a dime on a fuckboy
Don't sit and cry for a fuckboy
Never ride or die for a fuckboy

This is for my soldiers
I'm showin' love and all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed
This is for my soldiers
I'm showin' love for all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed

Ah, we the last of a dying breed, dying breed
Yeah, we the last of a dying breed

I'm the type that don't speak a lot
Don't ask for much, and don't need a lot
These pussy boys they everywhere, god-damn, I done seen a lot
They call the cops every chance they get
They want the smoke but can't handle it
You call the cops on me boy, better tell 'em to bring an ambulance

'Cause I'm the type that'll handle mine
If you want some too, ya better stand in line
I've been ready for that bloodshed, I'm a blood hound from the Florida pine
I'ma tell you once you pussy boy, I don't fuck around, ya better know this
Come to my house, without a doubt, I'ma empty out this whole clip

Or if I'm buying groceries and you fuckboys try to approach me
And I got my kids with me, you better act like you don't know me
Just walk on by, slowly, might turn me back to the old me
Where nobody could control me, I don't ever call the police
I do not play that bull shit, if I say shit then I do shit
Might fuck around and go stupid onto you fuckboys and lose it

Don't waste your time on a fuckboy
Don't spend a dime on a fuckboy
Don't sit and cry for a fuckboy
Never ride or die for a fuckboy

This is for my soldiers
I'm showing love and all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed
This is for my soldiers
I'm showing love and all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed

Ah, we the last of a dying breed, dying breed
Yeah, we the last of a dying breed

Man you can't support shit, you 'bout as sorry as it gets
You got a pocket full of dope, you need your fucking ass whipped
You better feed them damn kids and quit taking all them pills
Better find your ass a gig and try to catch up on them bills
And if yo girl do the same shit, she lame as fuck too
But you the man of the house, so I still blame you!

Don't waste your time on a fuckboy
Don't spend a dime on a fuckboy
Don't sit and cry for a fuckboy
Never ride or die for a fuckboy

Don't waste your time on a fuckboy
Don't spend a dime on a fuckboy
Don't sit and cry for a fuckboy
Never ride or die for a fuckboy

Hahaha, yeah, man, we the last of a dying breed baby
Come on, come on

This is for my soldiers
I'm showing love and all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed!
This is for my soldiers
I'm showing love and all them good ol' boys raised on shotguns
In the backwoods by the rivers and the creeks
Man we practice what we preach, we the last of a dying breed!

Ah, we the last of a dying breed