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Artist: Yelawolf
Album:  Trial By Fire
Song:   Son of a Gun
Typed by: 

I look in the mirror sometimes and think about how it all started
Small town Alabama, from city life we departed
Not a single light in the street, morning was scary and dark
To a little boy catchin the bus to school, 5:30 sharp
I used to make up songs to keep my mind from wonderin
what was in the woods waitin for me, my stomach still rumblin
from the cereal diet, even though momma was tryin
to do the best that she could, alcohol made her violent
Her boyfriend was a prick, probably 26
Barely looked my direction and really didn't do shit
My animosity grew along with my anger and impatience
Disaster in school, my teachers knew I was trouble waitin
And I did too, admittedly but I liked it
Maybe I had to accept, I'd always be uninvited
to church events, football and family orientated stuff
But I never thought that I had it rough
I embraced it honestly cause I knew how different I was
It made me a rebel and rebels made me feel welcomed and loved
I never knew my daddy but they said that I was the same
And what a shame, get your umbrella Wayne, here come the heavy rain

[Chorus: Yelawolf]
Cause I'm the lightning to your storm
The blood stain after a dog fight
The tornado to your alarm
Your hangover, after a long night
I'm the snake out of your barn
That one mistake you ever did right
The gunpowder to your drum
I'm your son
The son of a gun {*gun cocks, BLAM*}
Son of a gun {*BLAM*}
Son of a gun {*BLAM*}
Son of a gun {*gun cocks, BLAM*}
If life is but a dream I'm up the creek in a paddle boat
Stream full of snakes, demons, not even a ladder goes
up high and up over Mississippi to see the ocean
So here I go floatin, yeah, but I made it a habit though
19 and tattooed, hell raising
The neighborhood was the place and I made it home with the vagrants
Quarter pound of that seeded Mexican trash slingin nickels
Makin nothin and breakin even, just do it for tickles
Nashville's under icicles, the methadone's penetratin
Extasy hungry, bait as an experimentation
No more chocolate chip cookies, and porcelain jars
Morbid and dark are my role models and old-school cars
Sickening and I'm lovin it, I'm basking in half of it
Backstrokin in sinnin ways, a dagger to pastors
I never knew my daddy but they said that I was the same
And what a shame, here come the cocaine in the heavy rain

And you can tell that I still don't give a fuck
Still drinkin whiskey, I'm half a bottle already down
Slumerican-made man, criminals all around
Seventy-thousand dollars a night isn't good luck
Livin a story usin my war as my shield
The truth examined and recreated, the following's real
Plenty of fatherless children fill up the pit in the building
Usin the mind for the feelin, it's just like poppin a pill
And I'm takin it in, lost and makin a win
Thanks for the poems that you inspired, I'm rakin it in
Never heard you say "Give me five" so make it a ten
Keep the change cause I'm ballin, look at the bastard of him
When I went to jail for the first time, I thought about you
Son of a bitch, I admit it, I guess the rumors are true
Cause when I look in the mirror, I see from what I 'came
Trial by fire, pain, heavy rain