Trailer Park Meth Mafia

Rotten teeth, gold chain

Burned-out porch, propane

Shopping cart, blood stain

We run this whole dirt lane

Rusty pit bull on a chain by the tire stack

Baby on the hip, mama countin’ up the glass pack

Camo hat, pistol in the belt, that’s a fact

Mailman prayin’ when he walkin’ up the cul-de-sac

Late rent, late night, white smoke in the vent

Whole row of single wides smellin’ like cement

Black truck idle at the stop sign, windows tint

If you make the wrong move, you vanish, that’s it

Trailer park meth mafia

Mud on my kicks, but we bossin’ up

From the tin roof drip to the plastic cup

You can run through town, but you cross us, stuck

Trailer park meth mafia

Smoke in the sky, we the obvious

From the busted swing set to the pop-top truck

Rotten wood porch, but the safe floor concrete

Kids ridin’ in a circle where we used to cook heat

Grandma watchin’ from the window with the old screen

Rockin’ in a lawn chair, loadin’ magazines

Tattoo needle in the kitchen by the sugar bowl

Bible on the table, but it can’t save souls

Sheriff hit the corner, see the whole crew froze

Then we peel round back, stash the whole payroll

[low vocal register] Dead lawns, live wires, bare feet on gravel

[harsh screams] Whole block march like a dust-bowl battle

Sirens in the distance, they fade, we cackle

We the rusted crown kings in this vinyl castle