dirt road
A cold beer
A blue jeans
A red pickup
A 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 can sing in Mandarin
And still know I'm pandering
Hunting deer and chasing trout
A Bud Light with the logo facing out
Hear that subtle mandolin
That's te tbook panderin'
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 puttin' out
Good girl
In a straw hat
With her arms out in a corn field
That is a scarecrow
Thought that was a human woman, sorry
A cold night
A cold beer
A cold jeans
Strike that last one
I'm wanting you
I hope you're feeling me
Subte tually
We go to bed, you doze off
So I take your country girl clothes off
I put my hands on your body
It feels like hay, it's a
f g scarecrow again
Like Mike’s Evander ing
f ck your ears, I'm pandering
I write songs for the people who do
Jobs in the towns that I'd never move to
Legalize gerrymandering
Tolerate my pandering
You got a beautiful mouth
I got a beautiful (dick)
Y'all dumb motherfuckers
want a key change?
Thematically meandering
Emphatically pandering
I got a tight grip on my demo's balls
Say the word "truck," they
jizz in their overalls
You don't know what land you're in
I'm in the land of pandering
And I'll be upfront
I do what I do 'cause I'm a
total fuckin' cuuuuuuuuuuunt ry boy
