Corrección Letra My Own Lane par Upchurch

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Letra

If I die and you forget my name
I won't cast no shadow, I won't throw no shade
And if I never get to walk along no hall of fame
It won't bother me none because I'm in, I'm in my own lane

Own lane, with my own sound, with my own look, with my own money, with my own cars
With my own bars, with my own trucks, with my own house, with my own chick, I don't want nothin' of y'alls
And by me sayin' that with the numbers I got they say it takes big balls 'cause the big wigs see me
And I might f*ck a proposition up for myself as a nobody dude coming up from Tennessee
Yeah they talk to me like I'm a f*ckin' idiot and they can get me a life I can't get on my own
But I don't want the life that these airheads live but I guess I can't get it through that thick-ass skull
Sony hit me up and said they wanted the name erased from the song that I did with Luke Combs
'Cause they don't want him labeled as a racist and the song Outlaw don't fit his image at all
So if you look on YouTube on the same damn song, his name got erased about eight months ago
And I was worried if I didn't take his name off the label that he signed by was gonna come sue me bro
But I never said nothin', I just brushed it off, I was always taught to let bullshit go
So can you get a outlaw after I'm gone, I'm not sure but hopefully so

If I die and you forget my name
I won't cast no shadow, I won't throw no shade
And if I never get to walk along no hall of fame
It won't bother me none because I'm in, I'm in my own lane

My own lane, full of black rubber and spray paint, the smell of muscle cars and trucks with oil leaks
Shot stills burnin' way way high on the ridge, I know where they're all at but I ain't no snitch
I'd rather be a outlaw than a weak-ass bitch, that's how you end up wrecked layin' up in a ditch
And motherf*ckers don't get it, but they single me out, for bein' too damn real 'cause I ain't a sellout
Go ahead, smile away, put the cash in your pocket, you can be recycled but never ever me partner
I'm the only Churchman, sippin' Jack on a Sunday, a bad motherf*cker, hope God forgives me
Hell, what am I sayin' every angel falls, God made whiskey and the weed in my palm
And he gave me the soul to pour off in my songs and feed off of the emotion I stay draggin' along
So with that being said when I get to the gates, I need a murdered out Chevy with an old tailgate
A bottle of the devil's cut in an unlimited tank, and gasoline so clean I could possibly drink
Just spittin' flames for my fanbase and my last name, underground kicking I ain't even talk about my grave
Talkin' 'bout the legacy I'll leave layin' up in my state, the man who never gave his heart to be a f*ckin' fake

If I die and you forget my name
I won't cast no shadow, I won't throw no shade
And if I never get to walk along no hall of fame
It won't bother me none because I'm in, I'm in my own lane

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