[INTRO]
Ain’t no rules where I stomp, just b***d and rust,
Came out the womb with a blade and a crust.
Cross me once, motherfucker, that’s your last day—
Arkansas hills gon’ eat your a*s away.
[VERSE 1]
I got coke in the jar, and a body in the shed,
Got a bitch on her knees, and a snitch full of lead.
Put a meth head’s teeth in a Folgers can,
While I’m servin’ out grams with a d**d man’s hand.
F**k peace—I got pills and a stolen rig,
Shootin’ up junkies while I gut they pig.
I’m the devil in denim, the ghost in the well,
Leave a badge on a hook just to wish ‘em well.
[chorus]
B***d red clay, where the fuckboys lay,
Where I stash my dope and make ‘em pray.
You cross Burlap, I blow out your brain,
Then I piss on your grave when it starts to rain.
This that dirtbag hymn, that graveyard grit,
Where I carve my name in a coward’s shit.
Run all you want, cry and scream,
But you ain’t comin’ back from this red clay dream.
[VERSE 2]
Got a .40 in the dash, bag full of blow,
Trap house buzzin’ like a chainsaw show.
I done cut off tongues, nailed hands to boards,
Just to send a fuckin’ message to the methhead lords.
I got fentanyl lines on the preacher’s book,
And your bitch took two before I even looked.
You want hell? I bring it raw—
Wrap duct tape tight till your skin go raw.
[chorus]
B***d red clay, where the fuckboys lay,
Where I stash my dope and make ‘em pray.
You cross Burlap, I blow out your brain,
Then I piss on your grave when it starts to rain.
This that dirtbag hymn, that graveyard grit,
Where I carve my name in a coward’s shit.
Run all you want, cry and scream,
But you ain’t comin’ back from this red clay dream.
[VERSE 3]
I got shooters with shotguns hid in hay,
And a junkyard full of folks who ain’t okay.
I turn dope to gold, turn rats to dust,
And I ride with a sawed-off I know I trust.
Grew up on pain, now I cook in the flame,
Turn your whole fuckin’ crew to a bloodstained name.
This ain’t rap—it’s a death threat verse,
And the coroner’s bag gon’ carry your curse.
[chorus]
B***d red clay, where the fuckboys lay,
Where I stash my dope and make ‘em pray.
You cross Burlap, I blow out your brain,
Then I piss on your grave when it starts to rain.
This that dirtbag hymn, that graveyard grit,
Where I carve my name in a coward’s shit.
Run all you want, cry and scream,
But you ain’t comin’ back from this red clay dream.
[OUTRO]
I bury my sins with the shells and steel,
And laugh at the badge when his skin won’t heal.
B***d red clay, that’s my law—
S***t, slit, and cook with no flaw.
[OUTRO]
Arkansas ain’t holy, just violent and thick,
And Burlap’s the name when the reaper pick.