We Are Bro-Country
We are bro-country, we are bad ass
Illegitimate children of inbred white trash
Our hair might be faux-hawked, jeans glittered and spiked
We know how to get drunk and go lookin' for fights
We know what's tight, glass pack exhaust
And if you don't like it, I'll punch you, boss
We name drop the old stuff, but we only like new
And we do our own rappin', blue jean booty slappin'
If you're offended, F you
We are bro country, we ain't too bright
Our music and lifestyles, are big piles of shite
We don't have diplomas, or shirts that fit right
but we know how to bang skanks come Saturday night
We like Eminem, we get faded to EDM
We like Lil Wayne and Jay-Z and T-Pain
Old Hank would be sick, wait who is old Hank?
We like our country mixed with hip-hop and stank
We are bro-country, we have no pride
Except in our bench press and sweet jacked up rides
Kid Rock would be proud and Fred Durst give props
'cause we like our country with drum loops and bass drops
We like to smoke bowls, we like to roll coal
Don't like it? F u!
