Paroles

There's a line at the door full of underage whores And the bouncer lets 'em on by There's some clown from LA who's trying to sing Hank But it sounds more like bad Barney Fife And the bar's filled with dudes raised with silver spoons Hanging out of their mouths And the girls are all bitches just digging for gold Trying to get my dumb poor ass to buy them a round And they're all drinking Michelob Ultras And they make me just wanna go home And things don't look the way they're supposed to Baby, this ain't the Nashville I know Some dude gave a high-five to his buddy's new highlights "I swear, bro, I can't see your roots" And they're both scared to dance 'cause some fucktard in France Designed their new lizard skin boots And the girls think it's cool when the guys act like tools And pick fights with guys smaller than they are I wish they'd start shit with me, I'd knock out their whitened teeth And piss on their Hollywood sports car And they're all drinking Michelob Ultras And they make me just wanna go home And things don't look the way they're supposed to Honey, this ain't the Nashville I know I'm sick of these pop stars pretending Somebody must've forgot to mention To bring a chain for my wallet and gel for my hair On the way to the douchebag convention Shit! And you could bet your ass I won't be leaving I just hope that I'll witness the end Of these jerk-offs and metros and debutante skanks And get the Nashville I know back again
Writer(s): Robert Ritchie, Matthew Rogers, Curtis Guenther Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out