Yelawolf — Kickin

[Intro] BASS! [Verse 1] Who the one from the pine, whaddup y'all I'm the one from the grind, how low y'all Low below the Dixie Line, fuck with me I'll show ya how yield a quarter pound off the rippy I'm Catfish, bitch I'm back in West east late night, who pump action Nadda nothing buddy, don't even bother him I told you I'm Catfish, I'm quick to swaller brim Young gangsters busting wanna act bad Wasting gun shells like Bush in Baghdad My brother Zoo got the chopper and so? Betcha he takes it like a motherfucking ho Glass breaking I have your mother ducking low Back down ha, now that's a motherfucking joke Southern boys got hot butter for your soul Cracker barrel full of dynamite so let's go Dedicate this one to ugh... Magic Mike [Hook] My rattling trunk got them bobble heads looking Rear view mirrors got the world sitting crooked I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters I'm playing those heaters, I got that beater I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking [Verse 2] Gimme that Kenwood, these kicks are tempting I'm throwing this shit up like bottles of Jim Beam Knockers dropping, models are modeling In vibrating seats so make knees start wobbling If you want it bad, well then I give you my pickle I'm so off the chain that I can't pedal my bicycle Ain't got no petro, still get it crunk though Leaving my tire marks in hip-hop centerfolds, ho I know that amplifier's heated up, ho I know the DJ wanna speed it up My shit's snapping, it ain't snap music But you can lean back and throw it up, come on These Alabama boys connect with Atlanta boys Raised by them gun lovers who load up bananas boys Driving them Chevys and throwing D's on them Cadillacs Speakers and tweeters beating my whip got that rattle back [Hook] My rattling trunk got them bobble heads looking Rear view mirrors got the world sitting crooked I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters I'm playing those heaters, I got that beater I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking [Verse 3] Yeah I'm Southern, I'm crazy I'm driving Chevy's daily Holler at chee, burning tires I'm trashy, but I'm fire (yeah) I'll stick em good, I'll show 'em up I'll show 'em hood and I don't give a fuck From the trailer park I hail king, don't get ate apart So watch your spelling In the evening they ring-a-ling-ling Cellular blowing up they wanna ding-a-ling I'm a leading scene The pimp of the leading team We number one over seven Dixie Mafia family [Hook] My rattling trunk got them bobble heads looking Rear view mirrors got the world sitting crooked I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking These twelve inch speakers, these six inch tweeters I'm playing those heaters, I got that beater I am kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking Kick- kicking, kick- kick- kick- kicking