Travis Barker & Yelawolf - Funky Shit

Sitting in the back (Oh my god) S-Sitting the back (f-f-f-funky shit) Sitting in the back (Oh my god) S-Sitting the back (f-f-f-funky shit) Sitting in the back (Oh my god) S-Sitting the back (f-f-f-funky shit) Sitting in the back (Oh my god) S-Sitting the back (f-f-f-funky shit)

Peanut jelly box, sitting in the carport 808 crack, and I'm open like a barndoor Beer bottle cap, put 'em in the floor Set 'em in the floor, what a metaphor is this? Kind of like newer beat with Travis Eat it up, beat it up look at the atlas Where should I go? Put 'em in a cereal bowl In Alabama, then I holler out "Cheerio Look at that shit, hit the drum back like elastic And let it go like a mac? S-Sipping on the green, feeling like I'm seeing Patrick Got beans in the mattress, magic Make you want to jump on a fat bitch Ooh got to have it (boss) Send the wolf, pick a thing On a pekingese bitch, go go gadget (Owh) I'm all the way from the gutter Flick a cigarette butt from a Chevrolet pickup Geeked up on 7 Up Got a centimeter? Wall up on a run like a cheetah Want a better beat ah well, that'd be the day Put you up shit creek Paddle be away, hat to the side Holler at you homie What's the matter with you babe?

Sitting in the back with the bass on boom Trunk gon' shake, and the wheels on zoom American classic, trashy tunes L.A. to Alabama, from noon to noon They saying, (oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) Oh my god, that's some funky shit

And I'm a Beastie Boy Airwalks and a bowl cut Skater when a skater wasn't cool When it was just, "so what? Fuck you dude Well fuck you too To the crack with a backpack I'll bust your fruit I'm all about constructing my paper Kind of like a pocket full of Elmer's Glue Squeeze the bottle, turn the milk Churn the butter, get the cheese tomorrow I got a lock on my profit No exits, no keys tomorrow But I got steeze to borrow Some Famous kicks to match If I got a big sign, I'll rap As long as TV got sticks to crack So hit a drumroll, I'll jump in like a jump rope Watch Acapella like an elevator operate While the operator labeled my fucking high tops Rhythm like a clock, I'm scotch You would've thought, it was written But it's not Rag hanging out them look at them jeans Not a gangbanger but a banger who sings And momma don't you worry about a single thing Really though, cause daddy brought charcoal, and gasoline And we cooking up tonight, t-bones, pinto beans

Sitting in the back with the bass on boom Trunk gon' shake, and the wheels on zoom American classic, trashy tunes L.A. to Alabama, from noon to noon They saying, (oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) Oh my god, that's some funky shit

Yeah, why stop now? Put 'em in the trunk Let 'em feel the sound That they don't pop it Let 'em feel the rhyme till he finds the locket 808 weighs a ton, so drop it Watch your feet, while I rock the beat Going all out, no private seat I don't walk if I can ride the beat But wouldn't you though? Don't lie to me Of course you would, catapult syllables Got up on my horse in the woods, whoa Magical, sorcerer goods Steal from the rich put more in the hood Natural, born with a wood Fuck 'em all, I'm right above 'em all But you could butt talk, if a? fall Out with a motherfucker with a sluggish crawl Chug till I can't chug at all Not a frat boy, I'm a rap boy In Hollywood, like Aykroyd But I read my script with a southern drawl I run home when mother calls Cause mother's got a switch Yeah, she's a wolf too That makes me a son of a bitch

Sitting in the back with the bass on boom Trunk gon' shake, and the wheels on zoom American classic, trashy tunes L.A. to Alabama, from noon to noon They saying, (oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) (Oh my god, that's some funky shit) Oh my god, that's some funky shit