| Song | The Oven |
| Artist | Demun Jones & Upchurch |
| Album | The Oven |
| 作词 : Ryan Upchurch/Demun Jones | |
| 作曲 : Ryan Upchurch/Demun Jones | |
| [Intro: Demun Jones] | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and watch it grow | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven we'll watch it go | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| [Verse 1: Demun Jones] | |
| Patty cake, patty cake, how many country rappers fake | |
| The numbers off the chart, it'd take an Asian kid to calculate | |
| Calibrate recalibrate until it's fine tuned | |
| 'Cause you don't want to see the straw hat at high noon | |
| This ain't no get it back, buck your shit sucks | |
| New trucks, lift kits ain't gonna cut it bro | |
| If you ain't never swam through the shallow creek and ran barefeet | |
| Through the woods it's all good but please don't speak | |
| If you never picked a switch to get your ass beat | |
| You shouldn't try to fit your little bitty shoes on my feet | |
| When we was in that little shack with the paint chippin' | |
| Before the 95 thousand brick stack sittin' | |
| On the hill right next door to reet | |
| We was picked on for being poor, never accused to be rich | |
| No suspicion of success said we wouldn't be shit | |
| Now I'm a pillar in these parts a mid point of the tent | |
| Drop the Jones County on them, yeah they increased rent then | |
| Property values soar boy I want my percent | |
| I'm mean muggin' with my arms crossed, puffin' a cigar | |
| You know I never rest 'til heart of Georgia's on the radar | |
| Cardiac arrest, stand clear, we got a pulse | |
| Started from the bottom now check the result | |
| 'Cause this cracker ass cracker | |
| Ain't scared of not one wack rapper | |
| Boy I take 'em to church woo | |
| [Verse 2: Upchurch] | |
| Yeah, throw it in the oven, crank it a thousand degrees | |
| In the middle of the farm around a bunch of dried out leaves | |
| And watch me stand in the middle with a microphone in a tree | |
| And spit that backwoods fire, I'm on my Gatlinburg shit | |
| I'm in the trees with the only demon I talk to in the industry | |
| Everything we put out's carved in weeping willow history | |
| To go and get bigger for every inch of country rap to see | |
| Hiroshima with the impacts, yeah they know about me overseas | |
| That's why my bank account got like five different kinds of currency | |
| I gotta iTunes check and camo wrap my Lamborghini G | |
| Don't give a **** if my rhymes hit hard like a round from a musket | |
| And if you hear I'm aimin' for ya, you better go hide and duck it | |
| There ain't no respawning from heat like this is X-Box Live | |
| I'm going cannibal mode and eatin' your whole team alive | |
| Call me coyote church, with thick blood in my fur | |
| I blew up so ****in' fast the first year of my career is a blur | |
| So I gotta watch my back but I know there's people that got me | |
| Shoutout to my second home, middle Georgia and Jones County | |
| Demun if you need me go ahead and make that call | |
| You know I'll be the grim reaper if you need me dog | |
| Haha | |
| [Outro: Demun Jones] | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and watch it grow | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven we'll watch it go | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door |
| zuò cí : Ryan Upchurch Demun Jones | |
| zuò qǔ : Ryan Upchurch Demun Jones | |
| Intro: Demun Jones | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and watch it grow | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven we' ll watch it go | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| Verse 1: Demun Jones | |
| Patty cake, patty cake, how many country rappers fake | |
| The numbers off the chart, it' d take an Asian kid to calculate | |
| Calibrate recalibrate until it' s fine tuned | |
| ' Cause you don' t want to see the straw hat at high noon | |
| This ain' t no get it back, buck your shit sucks | |
| New trucks, lift kits ain' t gonna cut it bro | |
| If you ain' t never swam through the shallow creek and ran barefeet | |
| Through the woods it' s all good but please don' t speak | |
| If you never picked a switch to get your ass beat | |
| You shouldn' t try to fit your little bitty shoes on my feet | |
| When we was in that little shack with the paint chippin' | |
| Before the 95 thousand brick stack sittin' | |
| On the hill right next door to reet | |
| We was picked on for being poor, never accused to be rich | |
| No suspicion of success said we wouldn' t be shit | |
| Now I' m a pillar in these parts a mid point of the tent | |
| Drop the Jones County on them, yeah they increased rent then | |
| Property values soar boy I want my percent | |
| I' m mean muggin' with my arms crossed, puffin' a cigar | |
| You know I never rest ' til heart of Georgia' s on the radar | |
| Cardiac arrest, stand clear, we got a pulse | |
| Started from the bottom now check the result | |
| ' Cause this cracker ass cracker | |
| Ain' t scared of not one wack rapper | |
| Boy I take ' em to church woo | |
| Verse 2: Upchurch | |
| Yeah, throw it in the oven, crank it a thousand degrees | |
| In the middle of the farm around a bunch of dried out leaves | |
| And watch me stand in the middle with a microphone in a tree | |
| And spit that backwoods fire, I' m on my Gatlinburg shit | |
| I' m in the trees with the only demon I talk to in the industry | |
| Everything we put out' s carved in weeping willow history | |
| To go and get bigger for every inch of country rap to see | |
| Hiroshima with the impacts, yeah they know about me overseas | |
| That' s why my bank account got like five different kinds of currency | |
| I gotta iTunes check and camo wrap my Lamborghini G | |
| Don' t give a if my rhymes hit hard like a round from a musket | |
| And if you hear I' m aimin' for ya, you better go hide and duck it | |
| There ain' t no respawning from heat like this is XBox Live | |
| I' m going cannibal mode and eatin' your whole team alive | |
| Call me coyote church, with thick blood in my fur | |
| I blew up so in' fast the first year of my career is a blur | |
| So I gotta watch my back but I know there' s people that got me | |
| Shoutout to my second home, middle Georgia and Jones County | |
| Demun if you need me go ahead and make that call | |
| You know I' ll be the grim reaper if you need me dog | |
| Haha | |
| Outro: Demun Jones | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and watch it grow | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven we' ll watch it go | |
| Throw it in the oven, throw it in the oven and lock the door |