Yelawolf - Way Out

[Hook] Cinnamon seats, dashboard flakes, yeah, sprayed out Drunk as fool, throwin’ that Jimmy back until I’m laid out Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit, I’m talkin’ way out Dude, I’m way out – I’m talkin’ way out Rollin’ country side anywhere that I go, hey now Drunk on ‘Quake, cops pullin’ off they tellin’ me “turn it way down” Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit, I’m talkin’ way out Dude, I’m way out – I’m talkin’ way out [Verse 1] Yeah – intergalactic, out of my mind and into traffic In the pepper Converse tryna climb out and risk it with nothin’ in my backpack It’s me: a son of a bitch, a child of a prick A stepson you don’t wanna hit Ooo wee, no, not him – not Lil’ Wayne, Michael Wayans, Who you thought it was, B? Damn right, and I’m on a tightrope Screamin’ out “die bitch!” Fuck my life… I ain’t never give a fuck, I could never give a fuck now So put the chain on my bike, yeah Put that bitch back on the spot, give me the pistol before you cock it Let me throw a bullet in the clip for luck for us Poor us, yeah, poppin’ these, shockin’, ain’t it mane? Well I guess nobody wants to be broke, right? Black or white Paint the frame, ‘cause I’m only used to refusing the stereotypes of a name I ain’t a name – I’m a phone, I’m a piece of gold I’m a pro, I’m a piece of shit too… What I gotta do if I gotta roll? Guess what? I’mma roll all over you when I’m ridin’ [Hook] [Verse 2] Used to watch my beeper chirp, new Dickies and a Black Panther shirt My world was a little bitty spot in the universe outside of Earth Tennessee loud, Alabama born, I came down in a meteor storm Media wrong, media right, rightin’ my wrong, lean to get long Don’t come to get this, children go – this building is about to blow I don’t know what I’mma do with this feeling inside of my mind and soul I’m a one-in-a-million human show Shoulda been the motherfuckin’ Truman Show But if you seen me gettin’ raped as a child You probably wouldn’t give me room to grow Heavy blow, take a heavy sigh, like a runner on the dailies, high oh my You’ll be good, baby boy, don’t cry I can make a boat with the broke up rhymes God made me the Cherokee Like no, I can’t let the world off the hook this time And if you didn’t want this catfish shit, In fact, you shoulda never shook that line Readied that hook, took this time, to press play, then rewind I would rather be drunk than be blind To the space age pimp shit that I combine What I know, fuckin’ roll, I’m fuckin’ famous, country fresh That I can’t take one step in the fuckin’ street when I’m in public So I get in this… [Hook] [Outro] Yeah, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit (sprayed out) Still ridin’ them Chevrolets, know what I mean? (laid out) Alabama, South Kakalak is way out You know we way out Trunk Muzik is way out Rollin’ country side anywhere that I go, hey now Drunk on ‘Quake, cops pullin’ off they tellin’ me “turn it way down” Homie, I’m on my Catfish Billy shit, I’m talkin’ way out Dude, I’m way out – I’m talkin’ way out