Achy Breaky Heart

[Intro] Aww they gonna be mad about this one boys Oh well, it'll be alright [Verse 1] Fuck award shows, fuck the radio And the new up and comer and his female clothes With his glitter on his face and his prewritten songs He ain't from 'round here and neither is his boss Fuck the guy in the office with his Jerry Curl And his hands super soft like a teenage girl Fuck social media and them long hashtags With your bitch made album cover lookin' like a- Yeah, I said the word fuck in a song on the charts Prolly breaking beta male achy breaky hearts With the mocha lattes and sparkly blue scarfs Sittin' in the room tryna fucking talk like us [Break] We don't need Another pretty boy singin' pretty songs What up Luke, you doin' alright bro? You want a beer? No, okay well suit yourself You act like you broke your heart or something [Chorus] If country music was a rooster You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs If country music was a set of game cock gaffs You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand If country music was baby chickens in the thicket Would you have corn dust covered on your britches? I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket Just clucking telling y'all fuck it Yeah, fuck it [Verse 2] So by now you probably figured it out Mainstream pissed me off and made me have a dirty mouth But on the flip side, here's a little known fact I was born in Music City, still get no slack I got country songs tippin' 100 million Get played at every mud park across Dixie Not to mention female singers want to come and frisk me Especially when we're stoned in my F-150 [Break] Ryan Kane, what are ya doin'? Tryna start a fire, it's gettin' chilly Gettin' chilly? It's gettin' dark, are you lost or something? Yeah, I've been out here for hours Where'd you come from? I came from up yonder No, no, no, you need to go that way You need to get out of here dude If they find out a country singer was lost in the woods, CMT gonna eat this up fuggin' [Chorus] If country music was a rooster You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs If country music was a set of game cock gaffs You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand If country music was baby chickens in the thicket Would you have corn dust covered on your britches? I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket Just clucking telling y'all fuck it [Bridge] This part of the song is called the bridge And I'm about to burn it down And make aware that these sissy ass big wigs Can stop fucking up my hometown And I don't want to hear that we ain't good enough Or the radio ain't got room Bitch, I get the same spins on my Spotify list As your newest and hottest do [Chorus] 'Cause if country music was a rooster I'd prolly be a big Cuban dong If country music was a six cock derby in Kentucky Be the last one standing tall If country music was a walk string and barrel I'd break loose and strut the yard 'Cause we are to country like rooster feed to a bucket And we like songs that say fuck it (Haha) Yeah, fuck it, woo