A dirt road
A cold beer
A blue jeans
A red pickup
Rural noun, simple adjective
No shoes
No shirt
No Jews
You didn't hear that
(Sort of a mental typo)
I walk and talk like a field hand
But the boots I'm wearing cost three grand
I write songs about riding tractors
From the comfort of a private jet
I could sing in mandarin
And you'd still know I'm pandering
Hunting deer, chasing trout
A Bud Light with the logo facing out
Hear that subtle mandolin
That's textbook pandering
I own a private ranch that I rarely use
(I don't like dirt)
One verse
One chorus in the bag
Now it's time to talk to the ladies
I'm hoping my southern charm offsets all these rape-y vibes I'm putting out
Good girl in a straw hat
With her arms out in a cornfield
That is a scarecrow
(Thought it was a human woman, sorry)
A cold night
A cold beer
A cold jeans
Strike that last one
I'm wanting you
I hope your feeling me
(Subtexually)
We go to bed, you doze off
So I take your country girl clothes off
I put my hand on your body
I feel like hay, It's a fucking scarecrow again!
Like Mikes Evander ing
Fuck your ears, I'm pandering
I write songs for the people who do
Jobs in the towns I'd never move to
Legalize gerrymandering
Tolerate my pandering
You got a beautiful mouth
I got a beautiful (dick)
(You dumb motherfuckers want a key change?)
Thematically meandering
Emphatically pandering
I got a tight grip on my demos balls
I say the word truck, they jizz in their overalls
You don't know what land you in
I'm in land of pandering
And I'll be upfront
I do what I do cause I'm a total fucking cunt-ry-boy
