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