Out My Face lyrics

[Intro]
Man who the f*ck is that?
That b*tch looks terrible
Look at.. what the f*ck is..
That b*tch looks horrible
Get that b*tch off my television
Shawty Fatt! No
Shawty Fatt! No
Shawty Fatt! No
Change the f*cking channel
Rittz you like that sh*t don't you?
Ugly ass b*tch (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 a run-away
This b*tch needs to do what the quarter say
Under the, under the n*ggas 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 c*cktail
Yeah, bad let me get an ad-lib
Or f*cking die, see you b*tch
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*tch took a DRE
They don't led to see ID
Cause they who the hell I be
Simple song, no co-sign's n*gga
Bet your [?] my bowtie, n*gga!
[Hook: X2]
Get that ugly b*tch out my face
Get that, get that ugly b*tch
Out my, out my face, face
Get, get that b*tch, b*tch
Get that b*tch out my face
All these, all these b*tches 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*ckers can't stand the wind
You see 'em swingin'
Why the f*ck you think
I'm flickin' off the camera man
Couple years ago ain't nobody handled it
But I was broke as sh*t
Struggling with a sandy Benz
Yea, f*ck yea talking 'bout drugs
sh*t I write the type of sh*t
That make a middle class 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*t and buy nothin'
This hammer team Wrenckin' you so called manly man
Cause this slum alumni
And you don't really wanna f*ck by
Why must I, step on every record chopper
Like a piece [?] when doves cry
So suck my di*k
All you b*tches gettin' f*cked 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 freon in my system
You think Tyler's a goblin
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 butter 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*ck that)
[Hook: X2]