Come and Get It

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

La-lately I've been hearin' rumors, oh, Upchurch got his ass kicked

Well, that's funny 'cause I didn't feel it

And I ain't seen no video yet

Sounds like somebody needs publicity

I don't let these bitch boys get to me

Do you know who I am? I'm Mr. Tennessee

Who the fuck are you? I forgot instantly

I got a four speed Ford, couple bucks to my name

I don't care about money, put some 'spect on my name

I put fire in the game while I spits this blue flame

I don't care about these boys if they ridin' in my lane

Yeah, I'm here with a machete and ready to slit throats

Smokin' dope while I'm droppin' you out of my bass boat

Concrete around your feet, motherfucker, now float

Go swim with the fish like I work at Bass Pro

You can come and get it, come and get it, son

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

Fuck tellin' folks about your big truck

Fuck claimin' all you do is fish and hunt

Fuck chuggin' beer in your music video

'Cause you think that gives you credit, son

Every since the Robinsons got a TV show

E'rybody, hell yeah, with their grandma, whoa

And you ain't real, apparently, if you don't jam to them old songs

Y'all fucks never heard of John Denver

Old Country Road, on a different level

Er'ybody gotta this, e'rybody gotta that

Blah, blah, blah, blah 'bout your John Deere hat

I don't care about no fashion statement

These bare feet used to run the pavement

I done been all about fuckin' years ago

But I didn't care to go video tape it

Got a lot of honkeys runnin' on my team

Shit look like a Donald Trump regime

Bitch, I'll run you over, where's the keys?

I am here to stay, I would not leave

I am in a place you cannot see

Deep in Dixieland, between the trees

Steady laughin' at you wannabes

If you really wanna fuck with me

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

I stay in the sticks with the hicks and the firearms

You might come up missin' from the hogs of my pop's farm

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)

You can come and get it, come and get it, son (Pow, pow)