My truck soaks lean, you can lick the white bars and drink the gasoline.

My pocket so deep, I can eat McDonald's five days in a week.

I got so much soul, the devil is jealous, wanna be down with the king?

I'm off the ground, I float like a jet with propellers, a Vietnam machine.

Speaking of Vietnam, I'm in the street like a cheetah in Viet Cong, when I stick with the kerosene.

Preaching to see it wrong, grabbing the streets that retrieve him and lead him on with this gift of a sharing dream.

Preaching to see it wrong, I grab the heat like a cheetah and I bring it on, when you heat you can barely breathe.

Leaping the creek and the pond, back in the streets like a dealer to feed him songs, I'm bending with everything.

I'm too rock for hip -hop, too hip -hop for rock and roll.

I'm too city for rednecks, and I'm too country for city folks.

But I don't give a fuck what they want from me, I can only give them what I know.

I guess you could just call me out of motherfucking control.

I get so drunk, I lean against walls when there is no walls.

My team is so rowdy, they throwing the rebel flags when there is no cars.

Disaster still 30, my Chevy pipes are clapping, I need no applause.

Roll up like a tornado in park, 50 feet with nothing but hoes.

I grew up on ZZ Top, when momma was bar hopping for easy jobs, I sat with a TV night.

I grew up in need of pop, when momma was star shopping for icky pops, I happily needed not.

They grew up on too easy grumps, and momma was more poppin' with easy guap.

I sat with a 3D cop, I knew it was either rock, and if I wanted more options for me to clock, I happened to see hip -hop.

I'm too rock for hip -hop, too hip -hop for rock and roll.

I'm too city for rednecks, and I'm too controversial foes.

But I don't give a fuck what they want from me, I can only give them what I know.

I guess you could just call me out of motherfucking control.

Give a fuck if you understand it, how would I expect you to? I barely comprehend it.

How I ended up standing with Shady, shaking hands with 50 like he was playing for me maybe.

I'ma judge the position of musical composition.

I'm America's sweat stain, what's left in the kitchen?

Take the garbage out with the baggage and jump in the fucking bag.

Diggin' for hand -me -downs like I forgot what I have.

Nobody taught me how to do me, it just is.

An evolution of rap and rock and roll mixed with country -ass Memphis.

Tennessee hillbillies, tobacco -spittin' white kids.

Listen with intent, Metallica triple six.

Outkast, Johnny Cash, deadhead hippie shit.

I'm grateful these hitchy kids are able to witness it.

Benefit from the pen, yeah I began.

Thank you Eminem, there it is.

I'm too rock for hip -hop.

Too hip -hop for rock and roll.

I'm too city for rednecks.

And I'm too country for city folks.

But I don't give a fuck what they want from me.

I can only give them what I know.

I guess you could just call me out of motherfucking control.