This Is Racket County

Y'all cut off all that damn racket

Ha-ha-ha

Okay

First off we try to tell 'em not to hit the club

Broke as hell between us only had a hundred bucks

But it was poppin' happy hour so we stopped and had some one dollar drafts

It didn't seem much like a problem

Then the ladies started boppin' to a Ying Yang song

I hit the bar took a shot of two or three I'm gone

Saw by buddy dancin' all up on a little hippie chick

Gave us all a solid hit a something, said we won't remember shit (Yeah)

Later heard it from some people we was actin' a donkey

All them girls that y'all was with hope you know they was raunchy

I don't wanna hear about it man I'm sure it will haunt me

People labeled us some dumb drunk honkies

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)

Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)

I came in like I did because I knew y'all want it

I got a Chevy so high I call her Snoop Dog cousin

And while y'all follow suit I just kept on truckin'

I been cold blooded I'm raw I ain't stepped on nothin'

Another pissed off redneck shittin' on your bed set

I'll get your skull cracked it's time to get your head checked

Come get your neck snap back and I meant that

Back road assholes you can GPS that

Say we southern and know nothin' of class

You can kiss my poor broke country ass

I'm drinkin' straight out the bottle and I'm pissin' in my yard

Yellin' Racket County ask about me

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)

Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)

It feels good to be a redneck backwoods boss

Understood in these woods, yeah I'm that good hoss

Now the tops off never should've popped off

I did this album baby boy to get my rocks off

See you searchin' like an addict yeah you need you a hit

You tried to make some racket but I'm pleadin' the fifth

And all that riff-raff chit chat stop that shit

You better get back kid you over cookin' my grits

You got eleven teen, hundred and forty-five sold

You went backwoods copper and trailer park gold

I'm just gonna give you my plaque 'cause I ain't done yet

And Racket be the hottest county up under the sun set bet

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)

Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)

So welcome to the troublesome noise the country's runnin' from

Like Hank Jr. never sniffed some up off of stripper's buns

I blame y'all for this maddenin' direction

What'd you expect when the sticks got satellite reception

Skull crusher like Stone Cold's partner

Nobody touchin' my rhymes this a no hold's bar

Put that hatchet to your middle 'til your sternum splinters

They think you play for the Lakers out of Doc's Staples Center

Backwoods beast like Sasquatch when the track beats

And ain't nobody messin' with me this ain't Jack Links

So while y'all bicker 'bout what to call this sound

I'll be on the tour bus rippin' through y'all town, what

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)

Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)

Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)