Pissed On

[Verse 1: Jhi-Ali] With pencil in hand, paper and pistol in pants I whip out my dick and commence to piss on this game To me it's so simple and plain, see I'm equipped with the brain I'm just some other rappers stuck in traffic, got infinite lanes Ain't no end of this road, it just goes on and on and on The show, the dough, the clothes, the hoes and mo' I've gone for the gold as long's the motion been slow, so [?] I've been rollin' and smokin' the dro I ain't 'bout to change, my Alabama slang Ain't it man, in my Chevy grippin Alabama grain Say it backwards 'I'm a baller', you eye-ballin my chain Love the way I let it hang like they used to do to slaves And these just facts, Jhi-Ali for the gee's in the trap With their weed and their crack For the P.I.M.Ps with their skis on the track For my go-get-a-nigga in the streets gettin' stacks For my go-to-school-niggas with degrees living legit, let's make it Hustlers it's enough for us, fuck it, we just gon' take Got 'em so tired of askin' us skippin' over the 'bama like we amateur Watch when it dropping and goin' seven platinum [Hook x2: Shawty Fatt] Roll with us or get pissed on! You ain't with us, then bitch get gone! Yeah we marking em out Just the mark of the south Lights out, it's dark in this house [Verse 2: Shawty Fatt] I'm one lyrical motherfucker, the truth I better stack on it Just got finished with cut track on it Then I jumped back on it, then ride out Fuck this motherfucker like a glasshouse Slap that [?] nigga [?] My spit ain't never been spitted, niggas I did it You can hit any track I bet, when I rap authentic Get him gone, he can't spit it long, he's loving it dog Go and sit down on him, Shawty Fatt climb on him Bow-wow, fuck that, bow down, I’m Wild ‘N Out I spit better whenever you spit out your mouth I'm the shit, sitting next to the best [?] You kill [?], the rest gon' pay that, nigga now fuck! Y'all stop, we up on top of the game We up on top of your-lame's Get buttfucked by the flame What's this motherfucker name? [?] Plus I'm a [?] pendejo, (Puta!) adios amigos, got toast With that bullshit that he wrote. I spit [?] Which way did he go? Now don't run now This shit ain't that funny Cause I finally got this going down [Hook] [Verse 3: Yelawolf] The crooked side of the tracks made me work for the culture I rest my pen on the books of this prison to get over If I wasn't meant to sit at the throne with these other kings Then a peasant I be, uncontent and unfree Reality televison got me recognition Who knew by the work of Hollywood, you would see me spittin' But forgettin' my roots is an impossibility, buddy The [?] on my people reaches through my activity Such as the rhyme you hearin' now My blood's pumpin' since Eminem is the first I'm the second coming, elected one in a million by a million and one With a few billion on the planet, you calculate the outcome Out the state at last come and observe the work My trunk's popped, made my own shirts and dispersed them on the block Rehearsed and wrote a drop for many producers, they slept Alarm clock buzzin', I kept it cocked, hey cousin! I'm comin' up, be ready to get crushed By the crimson tide, we ride, holdin my state up Don't get touched with the A, 'bama is the pride Homie don't make the mistake, hush, Alabama soldiers ride [Hook]