[Intro: Upchurch (Lacquer Thinner Larry)]
Tell 'em what's up fuggin'
Woo, yeah
Fuckin' cornbread Conner over there 'bout to fuckin' sling some mud boe

[Verse 1: Upchurch (Lacquer Thinner Larry)]
Fuck 'em all, got a goose in my glovebox
I'm wearin' Ariat's and I don't even wear socks
I tell them boys in the fancy ol' truck, hook 'em up
Square body when I fuckin' square up (Woo)
Boot scoot and boogie in my knee cap jeans
You got a gun but you're scared of me
I be on a beat and I don't even grow no tomatoes
You can't touch me like a really hot ass potato (Woo)
Walk around with my neck muscles flexed out
Pocket full of money and some goddamn rainbow trout
Fuck fishin' license, I don't need that
Hit the game warden smack dab in his little gonads
I'm lit'r than a truck on fire, swervin'
Hotter than a distillery full of bourbon
Nice twenty-two by fourteens, I hope you curb 'em
Get some bullet holes, son-of-bitches, do you some learnin', fuggin'
Mountain Dew-Dew on the haters like a commode
I live where Bigfoot does, that's why I go beast mode
And they ain't gonna catch me, camera man too slow
To be redneck'r than me, there ain't no loophole
Pullin' up leakin' oil 'cause I'm slicker
I must be a Husqvarna, I'm a tad big thicker
Got a tootsie pop shawty, all I wanna do is lick her
I go hard, not even my own pecker is stiffer
I got a friend with a mullet, a friend with a musket
A friend with a chicken and some corn in a bucket
Every time I see wood all I wanna do is chuck it
Bonfire bigger than a rich guys house, fuggin'
Rubber baby buggy bumpers, Alan Jackson thumpin' in my uncle brother's Hummer
Dip stains on my steerin' wheel and all my covers
Santa Clause doesn't know but Rudolf's got it comin'
Last year I asked for a '58 Biscayne
All I got was an orange and a pack of ROGAINE
You give me all that coal, you ain't give me propane
Now I got beef, I'm about to steal your sleigh
I listen to country music even when I sleep
I walk it like I talk it, I got boots in my teeth
My station wagon got a Jesus fish
Cut fender wells on 40's, bitch
Big lift kit 'cause I'm closer to God
Plus he gave me a ding-dong the size of an Eddie Bauer rod
Skeet shootin' with some buddies from my hometown
Pistol packin' that kaboom when we go downtown
'Cause the weirdos on the corner look like sewer rats
Seen a dude in plaid shorts shit his pants, that's a fuckin' fact
I wasn't even high, I ain't even drink Jack
But that fella who pooped prolly coulda used a tater sack
Eww diarrhea in his Air Force 1's
If he was wearin' Tony Lamas it wouldn't have happened to him
Alright back to the cool shit, like I was sayin'
I want a mullet so long that it touches the pavement
I need a Dukes of Hazard car so I can smash all the Daisys
But like not the cousin ones, I mean like non-blood related
Bitch I'm Lacquer Thinner Larry, sweeter than a blackberry
Bald-ass head but my nipples still hella hairy
Lookin' like a dreamcatcher on a set of man titties
I'm a country boy, I don't fuck with the city (Yeah)
Yeah, I'm a country boy, Morgan Wallen on the speakers
Ridin' through town steady wakin' up the tweekers
Lacquer
[Bridge: Keefer Slagle (Bench Seat Bobby) & Upchurch (Lacquer Thinner Larry)]
Tell 'em what it is Bench Seat Bobby
Guns, moonshine, and weed's all you need, boe
Might be a little dust on this bottle fuggin'

[Verse 2: Keefer Slagle (Bench Seat Bobby) & Upchurch (Lacquer Thinner Larry)]
Slim note Jimmy though I drink like Buffett
I've been chillin' with the bitches, 'bout a couple hundred dozen
They pour the Jim Bean all up in my gullet
Tryna get me drunk so they can play with my mullet
Ridin' in the Camry son, I rip the E-brake
Take it to the curb slidin' sideways (Skrrt)
Then I turn it around and I take it back to my place
Put her ass on the couch then we hit a three way, woah (Damn)
Bitch I'm patriotic, bleed red, white, and blue
If you ain't about this country well motherfuck you
Your cousin hit me up, I nutted, cashew
Think I caught something, hold up, *ah choo*
Ain't muckin' you ain't nothin' you ain't fuckin', I stay Sam Huntin'
Skinny jeans with Cope rings on you fake motherfuckers
Big shit and big rigs rather be like truckers
Lift kits and bit tits, eat a bitch like supper
I hide my face so the Clintons can't find me
Next day you'll find me suicided from a pine tree
I turn around to see what's behind me
A fat booty chick, plump lips, a dime piece (A huge bitch)
I'm here, I'm there, elf on the shelf
Got bars by the load tucked under my belt
Tongue kissin' your bitch, dick her down then she melt
One more thing, Epstein didn't kill himself
Bobby