Cowntry Song (Pandering)

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