Country Song lyrics

A 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 could sing in Mandarin

You'd still know I'm pandering

Huntin' deer and chasing trout

A Bud Light with the logo facing out

Hear that subtle mandolin

That's textbook 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

Sub-textually

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 fucking scarecrow again

Like Mike’s Evander-ing

Fuck your ears I'm pandering

I write songs for the people who do

Jobs in the towns that I'd never move to

Legalize gerry-mandering

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' country boy

• Artist:Bo Burnham
• Album:Make Happy