Born on a mountain top, not Tennessee
He's so damn drunk he can barely see
Stilling moonshine is in his milieu
Don't call him a mullet he'll f*cking kill you
Standing tall about six-foot-three
A model of southern hostility
The townsfolk all stop and stare
But f*ck the world, he don't care
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
Family tradition, he knows it well
He'll make the world a living hell
Pouring through moldy, ancient tomes
The thing in the attic leaves only bones
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
He comes down from the hills
Can you hear the whippoorwills?
There'll be no tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
In a sleepy little town
Decadence abounds
From the ancient mound
Here comes the Sumbitch Horror
Crab Action - The Sumbitch Horror Lyrics
Crab Action - The Sumbitch Horror Lyrics
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Born on a mountain top, not Tennessee
He's so damn drunk he can barely see
Stilling moonshine is in his milieu
Don't call him a mullet he'll f*cking kill you
Standing tall about six-foot-three
A model of southern hostility
The townsfolk all stop and stare
But f*ck the world, he don't care
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
Family tradition, he knows it well
He'll make the world a living hell
Pouring through moldy, ancient tomes
The thing in the attic leaves only bones
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
He comes down from the hills
Can you hear the whippoorwills?
There'll be no tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
In a sleepy little town
Decadence abounds
From the ancient mound
Here comes the Sumbitch Horror
He's so damn drunk he can barely see
Stilling moonshine is in his milieu
Don't call him a mullet he'll f*cking kill you
Standing tall about six-foot-three
A model of southern hostility
The townsfolk all stop and stare
But f*ck the world, he don't care
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
Family tradition, he knows it well
He'll make the world a living hell
Pouring through moldy, ancient tomes
The thing in the attic leaves only bones
Can you hear the sound?
His truck's six feet off the ground
He don't care about tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
He comes down from the hills
Can you hear the whippoorwills?
There'll be no tomorrow
He's the Sumbitch Horror
In a sleepy little town
Decadence abounds
From the ancient mound
Here comes the Sumbitch Horror
Writer: Grant Penrod
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid