Rittz - Out My Face lyrics

[Intro] Man who the f** is that? That b**h looks terrible Look at.. what the f** is.. That b**h looks horrible Get that b**h off my television Shawty Fatt! No Shawty Fatt! No Shawty Fatt! No Change the f**ing channel Rittz you like that sh** don't you? Ugly a** b**h (Let's go) [Verse 1: Shawty Fatt] Yeah, sit it down cause I came to get wicked (wicked) On the mile like a paunch and no PicTune 1 hundred rounds, 1 hundred miles, 1 hundred towns I'm only running like I'm on run-away This b**h needs to do what the quarter say Under the, under the n***as I'm speeding I'mma say I am the reason they leaving They leaking, they get up sleeping Through dirty deacon Why don't you preach them the gospel? Pull through your face like a co*ktail Yeah, bad let me get an ad-lib Or f**ing die, see you b**h Like I'm pause here, yeah D-O-G-B-E double L, why try? They all may see when I'm riding round town Like Saha shooting out Wi-Fi b**h took a DRE They don't led to see ID Cause they who the hell I be Simple song, no co-sign's n***a Bet your [?] my bowtie, n***a! [Hook: X2] Get that ugly b**h out my face Get that, get that ugly b**h Out my, out my face, face Get, get that b**h, b**h Get that b**h out my face All these, all these b**hes drinking Ain't nobody gettin' paid [Verse 2: Rittz] Yelawolf sent me here So many bubble gum rappers out Now the rap game like candy land These motherf**ers can't stand the wind You see 'em swingin' Why the f** you think I'm flickin' off the camera man Couple years ago ain't nobody handled it But I was broke as sh** Struggling with a sandy Benz Yea, f** yea talking 'bout d** sh** I write the type of sh** That make a middle cla** fan be friend Slumerican the family grand You're in a fan, they scram These dudes waiting on some candy games I'm on some R&B sh** and buy nothin' This hammer team Wrenckin' you so called manly man Cause this slum alumni And you don't really wanna f** by Why must I, step on every record chopper Like a piece [?] when doves cry So s** my dick All you b**hes gettin' f**ed because I [Hook: X2] [Verse 3: Yelawolf] Empty can of gas Well a little bit leff at the bottom Just enough to hope that it gonna get light The trailer park is wobblin' Trash bag full of [?] in my system You think Tyler's have got them If that Future's Odd My past is odder like I worked the lachine Stick's and trash to build a dam To leave the gutters clockin' Inflood the street's with mother's grease And all this bu*ter poppin' Yeah I might have had a chance to be mechanic What's my other option? But I'm crackin' the bottom of a complex With papa's southern rock So go get Janis Joplin Dig her up from her grave and then indulge it Drinking Jack is not like Courvoisier, and Chris Styles was when he first came To the rap video waves And PBR's and dime bars Is a trim for this idiot age (f** that) [Hook: X2]