This Is Racket County Songtext
von Hard Target

Y′all cut off all that damn racket
Ha-ha-ha
Okay

First off we try to tell 'em not to hit the club
Broke as hell between us only had a hundred bucks
But it was poppin′ happy hour so we stopped and had some one dollar drafts
It didn't seem much like a problem
Then the ladies started boppin' to a Ying Yang song
I hit the bar took a shot of two or three I′m gone
Saw by buddy dancin′ all up on a little hippie chick
Gave us all a solid hit a something, said we won't remember shit (Yeah)

Later heard it from some people we was actin′ a donkey
All them girls that y'all was with hope you know they was raunchy
I don′t wanna hear about it man I'm sure it will haunt me
People labeled us some dumb drunk honkies

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It′s a big hood hoss)
Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)


I came in like I did because I knew y'all want it
I got a Chevy so high I call her Snoop Dog cousin
And while y′all follow suit I just kept on truckin′
I been cold blooded I'm raw I ain′t stepped on nothin'

Another pissed off redneck shittin′ on your bed set
I'll get your skull cracked it′s time to get your head checked
Come get your neck snap back and I meant that
Back road assholes you can GPS that
Say we southern and know nothin' of class
You can kiss my poor broke country ass
I'm drinkin′ straight out the bottle and I′m pissin' in my yard
Yellin′ Racket County ask about me

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)
Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It′s the County)

It feels good to be a redneck backwoods boss
Understood in these woods, yeah I'm that good hoss
Now the tops off never should′ve popped off
I did this album baby boy to get my rocks off


See you searchin' like an addict yeah you need you a hit
You tried to make some racket but I'm pleadin′ the fifth
And all that riff-raff chit chat stop that shit
You better get back kid you over cookin′ my grits

You got eleven teen, hundred and forty-five sold
You went backwoods copper and trailer park gold
I'm just gonna give you my plaque ′cause I ain't done yet
And Racket be the hottest county up under the sun set bet

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It′s a big hood hoss)
Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)

So welcome to the troublesome noise the country′s runnin' from
Like Hank Jr. never sniffed some up off of stripper's buns
I blame y′all for this maddenin′ direction
What'd you expect when the sticks got satellite reception
Skull crusher like Stone Cold′s partner
Nobody touchin' my rhymes this a no hold′s bar
Put that hatchet to your middle 'til your sternum splinters
They think you play for the Lakers out of Doc′s Staples Center

Backwoods beast like Sasquatch when the track beats
And ain't nobody messin' with me this ain′t Jack Links
So while y′all bicker 'bout what to call this sound
I′ll be on the tour bus rippin' through y′all town, what

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)
Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It′s the County)

Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (Ask the player who is boss)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra-ra-rack (Racket County)
Ra-ra-ra-rack, ra-ra (It's a big hood hoss)
Ra-ra-ra-Racket ra-ra-ra-Racket (It's the County)