Blue Suede Lyrics

[Chorus]
Down south we the mob
Tracks spinning at the top
In the backwoods, where the Backwoods puff and fog
Yeah, down south we the ones
Mama don't raise bitches and I'm too fat to run
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Bel Air with the white walls
Two tones on a joint
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Ay
[Verse 1]
They like ay, you the one who do that country shit
I tell 'em I'm the reason rappers out herе buyin' farms, yeah
Didn't see no gangsta's flexin' John Deere
Bеfore before my gap toothed ass got my shitkickers and came here
They say the game got levels but they ain't on mine
'Round here we ain't tellin' we on Instagram Live
I don't know no famous people on this side of the pines
Nappin' good in my hood
My door unlocked all the time
Black Benz, black belts, black suit, black Uzi
Rollin' like George Bush
CIA when I'm movin'
You can't even touch my shoulder when I'm sittin' in the movies
Real life, one that spins and gets produced into a movie

[Chorus]
Down south we the mob
Tracks spinning at the top
In the backwoods, where the Backwoods puff and fog
Yeah, down south we the ones
Mama don't raise bitches and I'm too fat to run
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy Bel Air with the white walls
Two tones on a joint
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Ay
[Verse 2]
I been so stressed out
I stopped bein' stressed, no cap
I feel like talkin' shit to many men
Go and get the strap
And then I send like fifty back
I never pushed a drug, that's fact
But I shot guns my whole life who gon' dust me like a Swisher wrap?
This hellbilly dangerous 'cause my skill level too high
We should crack a 'wood, if they did they'd be two-ply
Hip-hop lookin' at me like "Who the f*ck the new guy?"
He pulled up in that Hellcat, lifted, sittin' on them thirty-five's
Gold Vols chain
VBS, Mark Twain
And I'm workin' so hard they think I love Cocaine
But even if I did, I'm a boss I don't explain
I just mean mug you cracka's with a face like Major Payne
Church

[Chorus]
Down south we the mob
Tracks spinning at the top
In the backwoods, where the Backwoods puff and fog
Yeah, down south we the ones
Mama don't raise bitches and I'm too fat to run
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Bel Air with the white walls
Two tones on a joint
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Blue collar, blue bills, blue suede on your boy
Ay

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