F.A.S.T Ride Lyrics
| Song | F.A.S.T Ride |
| Artist | Yelawolf |
| Album | Trunk Muzik Returns |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [Intro] | |
| (You know my Uncle Critter said, | |
| "You look like you been shot at and missed | |
| ************t at and hit" | |
| [Hook] | |
| On that ass, ************ | |
| Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| Yeah, and I be bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| Yeah, on that ass, ************ | |
| And I be bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| Trunk Muzik, bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| [Verse 1] | |
| Mello Yello can in my hand, | |
| Mullet hawk, what? | |
| Country folks don’t talk much | |
| They just get to work : sawdust | |
| Chainsaw, axe, knife, cut firewood, burn, logs, heat | |
| Sleepin’ bag by the bricks: call me the fly, I’m on some ************t | |
| Drum this out with two sticks | |
| Soup a high school Coupe for new kicks | |
| Zoom, raps make mummies jealous from a tomb | |
| Knock twice if you feel it | |
| Born to rip, I should’ve been | |
| Perforated by the rings like a Mead notebook | |
| ************s want an artery blocked when I’m around | |
| Circulated, nerds are in, Urkel made it | |
| I’ll slap Urkel, take his lunch money | |
| Punks they run from me, drunk and upset | |
| But I don’t run clumsy, punch a perp’ | |
| A one, two, three: I’m at the Chelsea Hotel | |
| Like Sid & Nancy with the knife, and two grams of candy | |
| Give me the dizzies, fee, fee, ****** me | |
| Please oh please don’t leave | |
| Just give me the keys and crank that beat | |
| ‘Cause I might double up and straight dry heave | |
| But believe, oh believe I’m cold, I’mma freeze this beat | |
| Like Freon, frickin’ neon, that’s me glowing in a snowstorm | |
| Look here, we in these streets like a pair of Nikes | |
| Well, I might be more like a pair of nice jeans, cause I’m… | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Verse 2] | |
| So what’s new? | |
| Been on that ************t, where’s the atlas? | |
| Thumbtack it, South Cackalack it, Alabama has it, go | |
| Relax in a 1985 box train, perhaps I’m playin’ Relapse | |
| Boss, Eminem saw the gem in him | |
| Oh, me? Yeah, who thought? | |
| Just toss the white trash out the window | |
| Now I’m in a ditch like broken pencils | |
| Empty bottles and stolen rentals | |
| This one is for all my kinfolk | |
| Yeah, bring ‘em in, though | |
| Out the rain, what’s a friend for? | |
| Word, oh for sure, yours truly, at the door | |
| Had to add a syllable to that word | |
| Country, but, oh, of course | |
| ************ go berserk for certainly, no need to be coerced | |
| Odd economy, don’t need no nine-nine-nine-nine-nine and I know | |
| Just the na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye, and hey, let’s roll | |
| These hoes are no good, pills are okay | |
| I just wanna get high, ****** what you say | |
| Wild, the pen-play kind of like a samurai sword | |
| With a big ************, bow to sensei | |
| Mother******’ ************, it’s pay your rent day | |
| Do I not look like my name was MJ | |
| One glove and a ******’ pair of penny loafers | |
| And I moonwalk on the tempo like Billy Jean is not my friend, no | |
| [Hook] | |
| [Outro] | |
| Yeah… yeah… | |
| Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| On that ass, ************ | |
| Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| On that ass, ho | |
| Bumpin’ this funky-ass ************t to ride to | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go | |
| Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go | |
| Let’s go, let’s go | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| I’m on my ************t now… | |
| I’m on my ************t now… | |
| I’m on my ************t now… | |
| I’m on my… | |
| Yeah, I’m on my ************t now… | |
| I’m on my ************t now… | |
| Let’s go! |
| Intro | |
| You know my Uncle Critter said, | |
| " You look like you been shot at and missed | |
| t at and hit" | |
| Hook | |
| On that ass, | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, and I be bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, on that ass, | |
| And I be bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Trunk Muzik, bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Mello Yello can in my hand, | |
| Mullet hawk, what? | |
| Country folks don' t talk much | |
| They just get to work : sawdust | |
| Chainsaw, axe, knife, cut firewood, burn, logs, heat | |
| Sleepin' bag by the bricks: call me the fly, I' m on some t | |
| Drum this out with two sticks | |
| Soup a high school Coupe for new kicks | |
| Zoom, raps make mummies jealous from a tomb | |
| Knock twice if you feel it | |
| Born to rip, I should' ve been | |
| Perforated by the rings like a Mead notebook | |
| s want an artery blocked when I' m around | |
| Circulated, nerds are in, Urkel made it | |
| I' ll slap Urkel, take his lunch money | |
| Punks they run from me, drunk and upset | |
| But I don' t run clumsy, punch a perp' | |
| A one, two, three: I' m at the Chelsea Hotel | |
| Like Sid Nancy with the knife, and two grams of candy | |
| Give me the dizzies, fee, fee, me | |
| Please oh please don' t leave | |
| Just give me the keys and crank that beat | |
| ' Cause I might double up and straight dry heave | |
| But believe, oh believe I' m cold, I' mma freeze this beat | |
| Like Freon, frickin' neon, that' s me glowing in a snowstorm | |
| Look here, we in these streets like a pair of Nikes | |
| Well, I might be more like a pair of nice jeans, cause I' m | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2 | |
| So what' s new? | |
| Been on that t, where' s the atlas? | |
| Thumbtack it, South Cackalack it, Alabama has it, go | |
| Relax in a 1985 box train, perhaps I' m playin' Relapse | |
| Boss, Eminem saw the gem in him | |
| Oh, me? Yeah, who thought? | |
| Just toss the white trash out the window | |
| Now I' m in a ditch like broken pencils | |
| Empty bottles and stolen rentals | |
| This one is for all my kinfolk | |
| Yeah, bring ' em in, though | |
| Out the rain, what' s a friend for? | |
| Word, oh for sure, yours truly, at the door | |
| Had to add a syllable to that word | |
| Country, but, oh, of course | |
| go berserk for certainly, no need to be coerced | |
| Odd economy, don' t need no nineninenineninenine and I know | |
| Just the na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye, and hey, let' s roll | |
| These hoes are no good, pills are okay | |
| I just wanna get high, what you say | |
| Wild, the penplay kind of like a samurai sword | |
| With a big , bow to sensei | |
| Mother' , it' s pay your rent day | |
| Do I not look like my name was MJ | |
| One glove and a ' pair of penny loafers | |
| And I moonwalk on the tempo like Billy Jean is not my friend, no | |
| Hook | |
| Outro | |
| Yeah yeah | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| On that ass, | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| On that ass, ho | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Let' s go, let' s go, let' s go | |
| Let' s go, let' s go, let' s go | |
| Let' s go, let' s go | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| Let' s go! |
| Intro | |
| You know my Uncle Critter said, | |
| " You look like you been shot at and missed | |
| t at and hit" | |
| Hook | |
| On that ass, | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, and I be bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, on that ass, | |
| And I be bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Trunk Muzik, bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Verse 1 | |
| Mello Yello can in my hand, | |
| Mullet hawk, what? | |
| Country folks don' t talk much | |
| They just get to work : sawdust | |
| Chainsaw, axe, knife, cut firewood, burn, logs, heat | |
| Sleepin' bag by the bricks: call me the fly, I' m on some t | |
| Drum this out with two sticks | |
| Soup a high school Coupe for new kicks | |
| Zoom, raps make mummies jealous from a tomb | |
| Knock twice if you feel it | |
| Born to rip, I should' ve been | |
| Perforated by the rings like a Mead notebook | |
| s want an artery blocked when I' m around | |
| Circulated, nerds are in, Urkel made it | |
| I' ll slap Urkel, take his lunch money | |
| Punks they run from me, drunk and upset | |
| But I don' t run clumsy, punch a perp' | |
| A one, two, three: I' m at the Chelsea Hotel | |
| Like Sid Nancy with the knife, and two grams of candy | |
| Give me the dizzies, fee, fee, me | |
| Please oh please don' t leave | |
| Just give me the keys and crank that beat | |
| ' Cause I might double up and straight dry heave | |
| But believe, oh believe I' m cold, I' mma freeze this beat | |
| Like Freon, frickin' neon, that' s me glowing in a snowstorm | |
| Look here, we in these streets like a pair of Nikes | |
| Well, I might be more like a pair of nice jeans, cause I' m | |
| Hook | |
| Verse 2 | |
| So what' s new? | |
| Been on that t, where' s the atlas? | |
| Thumbtack it, South Cackalack it, Alabama has it, go | |
| Relax in a 1985 box train, perhaps I' m playin' Relapse | |
| Boss, Eminem saw the gem in him | |
| Oh, me? Yeah, who thought? | |
| Just toss the white trash out the window | |
| Now I' m in a ditch like broken pencils | |
| Empty bottles and stolen rentals | |
| This one is for all my kinfolk | |
| Yeah, bring ' em in, though | |
| Out the rain, what' s a friend for? | |
| Word, oh for sure, yours truly, at the door | |
| Had to add a syllable to that word | |
| Country, but, oh, of course | |
| go berserk for certainly, no need to be coerced | |
| Odd economy, don' t need no nineninenineninenine and I know | |
| Just the na, na, na, na, hey, hey, hey, goodbye, and hey, let' s roll | |
| These hoes are no good, pills are okay | |
| I just wanna get high, what you say | |
| Wild, the penplay kind of like a samurai sword | |
| With a big , bow to sensei | |
| Mother' , it' s pay your rent day | |
| Do I not look like my name was MJ | |
| One glove and a ' pair of penny loafers | |
| And I moonwalk on the tempo like Billy Jean is not my friend, no | |
| Hook | |
| Outro | |
| Yeah yeah | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| On that ass, | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| On that ass, ho | |
| Bumpin' this funkyass t to ride to | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| Let' s go, let' s go, let' s go | |
| Let' s go, let' s go, let' s go | |
| Let' s go, let' s go | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my | |
| Yeah, I' m on my t now | |
| I' m on my t now | |
| Let' s go! |
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