Текст песни
(Intro)
Yeah
This that grave shift music
No mercy, no fucks, no fingerprints
Bag ‘em, tag ‘em, burn what's left
(Verse 1)
Duct tape on the barrel, I don't miss with the heater
Drop a snitch in the ditch, make the pigs play cleanup
Got a prayer for the reaper, a line for the fiends
A trunk full of dope and a soul full of screams
That boy went missin', ain't no mystery
Bitch, I'm the reason behind half this county's history
Gator food in the swamp, they don't float
Hit 'em with that .40 cal, sink like a goat
Buried my pain next to three of my ops
Kept the shells as trophies, cleaned the blood off my Crocs
Ain't no peace when the trailer lights flicker
Only thing holy is this meth rock, slicker than liquor
(Hook)
BAG UP THE BODIES, don't leave no trace
Drop that bitch like a mixtape nobody plays
BAG UP THE BODIES, throw ‘em in the pit
Put the shovel to the soul, now that dirt don't quit
BAG UP THE BODIES, like it's just routine
Like grandma's dishes or a dope fiend's dream
BAG UP THE BODIES, I'm the last one left
If hell got a sheriff, then I'm takin' his breath
(Verse 2)
Every night's a hitlist prayer
Got a Bible full of mugshots, matchsticks, and flares
Ain't no choir in this chapel of rust
Just a snake in the weeds and a gauge full of dust
Got blood on my jeans from the last two visits
Cutthroat business, I don't do no witnesses
Snatched him up quick with a hog—tied fate
Then I laughed with the devil, pourin' shots on his grave
Dodge doors open like a hearse in heat
With a duffle full of work and the steel tucked deep
You don't want war with a man this gone
I don't kill for fun, I kill ‘cause I'm drawn
(Hook)
BAG UP THE BODIES, don't leave no trace
Drop that bitch like a mixtape nobody plays
BAG UP THE BODIES, throw ‘em in the pit
Put the shovel to the soul, now that dirt don't quit
BAG UP THE BODIES, like it's just routine
Like grandma's dishes or a dope fiend's dream
BAG UP THE BODIES, I'm the last one left
If hell got a sheriff, then I'm takin' his breath
(Outro)
So count your blessings or count your shells
Either way you end up feedin' worms or cells
This ain't rap, it's a deathbed spell
Country Lunatic — white trash cartel