Remember When: A Depressing Parody Lyric

 

 "Remember When"
(A depressing parody of Alan Jackson's "Remember When")

Remember when songs were sung with words so true
and steel guitars and fiddles were still cool
You could hurt with Patsy Cline
Thumb a ride with Charley Pride
Remember when

Remember when they called the cows
or honky tonked
Broke our hearts, closed the bars, living hard
Waylon and Merle, trains and spurs
Texas boys, Kentucky girls
Remember when

Remember when old ones died and new came on
The sound was changed, modernized, rearranged
But even though some shined like stars
They still had country heart
Remember when

Remember when the lure of fame and greed
made the music
Chase the trend of the week
Big pickup trucks, bass and lust
Stole the soul and broke our trust
Remember when

Remember when George Strait was always on
And there was still twang in country songs
But where we are,
From where we've been
Too far to go back again
Remember when

Remember when we knew it'd be okay
And the cycle would turn back someday
But that's all past, pour a glass
Put on some Johnny Cash
And just remember when

Re-Flush. A Girl Crush Parody.

 This is reprehensible and gross and childish, and welcome back Bobby Joe!

Re-flush
(©2015 BobbyJoe parody lyrics)

Parody of Little Big Town's "Girl Crush"

I got to re-flush
Hate to admit it but
Pooped in a big rush
Ain't going down
I grabbed the plunger
And pushed it down under
And still I feel strong hunger
Could eat me a cow

I want to taste french fries
Yeah, 'cause they taste like grease
I want to drown myself
In a bottle of Texas Pete
I want more chili dogs
I want more cabbage soup
Yeah, 'cause for sure then
I'd really let it loose
I got to re-flush
I got to re-flush

I don't Beano beans
I don't Beano greens
Thinking about food
Under my fat jeans
The way that it's whispering
The way that it's pulling me in
Lord knows I've tried
I can't get it off my mind

I want to taste french fries
Yeah, 'cause they taste like grease
I want to drown myself
In a bottle of Texas Pete
I want more chili dogs
I want more cabbage soup
Yeah, 'cause for sure then
I'd really let it loose
I got to re-flush
I got to re-flush
Hate to admit it but
Pooped in a big rush
Ain't going down

If Dallas Davidson Had Written These Americana Classics

If Dallas, or other bro-ish songwriters had penned these great Americana tunes...

Turtles All the Way Down
Every time I'm crankin' up my new green Raptor pickup truck
I'm chillin' like a villain cause I'm chromed out and so sweet and so fly
Grappler Nittos, LED, silver gearshift, and HIDs they all changed the game for me
But girl, the only thing I want's your ass tonight

Two More Bottles of Wine
Two guns on my back, tattoos lookin' fine
Haters on Twitter saying I'm out of line
But it's all right 'cause I'm so tight
And I got two more bottles of shine

Cover Me Up
So girl leave your Dukes by the bed/I'm bout to drop tha boom
Till there's an illegitimate child growing there in your womb

The Road Goes on Forever
Down farm road after midnight with some Jeremiah Weed
Drivin' drunk with a big ol' dip and Axe sprayed all over me
She's wearing those old Levis that show off suntanned skin
The bro goes on forever and the party never ends

Pancho & Lefty
Driving gravel roads my bro
Is gonna get your truck in dirt
While you wear your barbed wire tatt
And way too tight Ed Hardy shirt
You weren't your high school's smartest boy
But the most badass one it seems
You give every guy the mad-dog eyes
Never turn off your high beams

Pancho was a country boy
His Ford had flames and polished chrome
Wore his ripped-up studded jeans
To make the hotties sigh and moan
Pancho saw a bae so hot
Down at the Sonic parking lot
He stepped to her and spit some game
Took a Fireball shot

Sam Hunt Wants Something

"Girl Crush" Parody Lyrics

They definitely wouldn't play this version on the radio...

Man Crush

(Parody of Little Big Town's "Girl Crush")

I gotta man crush, I can't deny it and
He thrills me so much, can't settle down
I need it like that, want everything he's got
That grin and the chiseled bod he’s givin’ you now

I wanna hold his hand, yeah, go where it has gone
I wanna drown myself in a bottle of his Axe cologne
I want his stubbled chin, I want his sculpted butt
Yeah, ‘cause I know then, you’d want me just as much
I gotta man crush, I gotta man crush

I don’t get no rest, No I'm always stressed
Thinkin’ about him getting undressed
The way he is pleasin', all that heavy breathin'
Lord knows I’ve strained, I can’t get him off my brain

I wanna hold his hand, yeah, go where it has gone
I wanna drown myself in a bottle of his Axe cologne
I want his stubbled chin, I want his sculpted butt
Yeah, ‘cause I know then, you’d want me just as much
I gotta man crush, I gotta man crush

I gotta man crush, I can't deny it and
He thrills me so much, can't settle down

Sundays: A Larry Lee Approved FGL Parody

Sundays
Parody of Florida-Georgia Line's "Sun Daze"

I'm gonna wear my Staceys and


I'm gonna sing some praises to


Holy Trinity of Spirit and Maker and Savior


And throw a 20 in the offering plate


If you're ready, go up and get saved


No more weight you're towing, to Heaven be going

All I wanna do today is wear my Penney's gray herringbone

Sin a little less, pray a little more


THAT's what this day is for


And all I wanna do is praise JC and fellowship with good folks


Read a little Acts, Read a little John


Love gettin' my Sundays on, gettin' my Sundays on

Jesus Christ you're the life of my party


Full of grace healin' up broken-hearted


Break some bread as we do the Communion


Hope Ms. Wanda will do some hymn croonin'


I hit my knees at the altar rail


Ask the Lord to forgive my fails


The way that I'm feeling, the devil ain't stealin'

All I wanna do today is wear my Penney's gray herringbone


Sin a little less, pray a little more


THAT's what this day is for


And all I wanna do is praise JC and fellowship with good folks


Read a little Mark, Read a little John


Love gettin' my Sundays on, gettin' my Sundays on

All I wanna do today is wear my Penney's gray herringbone


Sin a little less, pray a little more


THAT's what this day is for


And all I wanna do is praise JC and fellowship with good folks


Read a little Acts, Read a little John


Love getting' my Sundays on, gettin' my Sundays on


Gettin' my Sundays on

Christmas FGL Parody: "Holi Daze"

Photo from GAC

Holi Daze
(FTM Parody of FGL's "Sun Daze")

I’m gonna wear my man Uggs and
I’m gonna play some flip mug and
Rock a little bit of Slim Thug and
Burl Ives and T.I.
And drink some Jager neath the Christmas tree
I wonder what Santa's bringin' me
The way that I'm actin'
Coal and switches be packed in

Chorus
All I wanna do today
Is honor Jesus' birth and get stoned
On that naughty list, let the eggnog pour
That's what winter break is for
And all I wanna do is call some hoes and
Throw my balls made of snow
Bows on my gun rack
Ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ my holi daze on
Gettin’ my holi daze on

Girl dress sexy for my Christmas party
Hoochie Mrs. Santa drankin' Bacardi
You ain't no elf, but girl you my shorty
It may not rhyme but I'm getting horny
I’ll sit you up on the fireplace hearth
And stick some garnish in your Christmas tart
The way that we rockin', I'll get in your stocking

All I wanna do today
Is wear my Santa hat and get stoned
On that naughty list, let the eggnog pour
That's what winter break is for
And all I wanna do is drive my Chevrolet
with a warm Fireball glow
Spray on minty Axe
Ain’t nothin’ wrong with gettin’ my holi daze on
Gettin’ my holi daze on

(Repeat Chorus)

Gettin’ my holi daze on

God Made Girls (A Feminist Lyric Parody)

 God Made Girls

FTM Parody of Raelynn's "God Made Girls"

Somebody's gotta show some upper leg,
Somebody's gotta hint that they want sex,
Somebody's gotta give him what he expects so God made girls

Somebody's gotta make him feel like a stud,
Do squats at the gym to grow that butt,
Somebody's gotta be a classy slut,
So God made girls.

He needed something pure but bad to please the lads
Tell dirty jokes but never fart
Something sexual, forgettable when morning ends the dark

So God made girls, God made girls
He stood back and told the bros, "Hey son, it's your world."
And God made girls (for showing off their tan lines)
God made girls (for getting drunk on Boone's wine)
He stood back and told the bros, "Hold their hair when they hurl."
And God made girls.

Somebody's gotta turn the other cheek
Somebody's gotta let him speak
Give him occasional titty peeks so God made girls

Somebody's gotta wear jeans real tight,
Get their hair and make-up fixed just right
To go downtown and make his night,
So God made girls.

Something that can accept unequal pay for the same damn kind of work
Something that bears the blame for scandal
Somethin' that means "yes" when "no" she asserts

So God made girls, God made girls
He stood back and told the bros, "Hey son, it's your world."
And God made girls (for acting dumb and helpless)
God made girls (for giggling at his belches)
He stood back and told the bros, "Hold their hair when they hurl."
And God made girls.

Somebody's gotta bite forbidden fruit,
Somebody's gotta worship pecs and loot,
Somebody's gotta be a sweet prostitute

So God made girls, God made girls
He stood back and told the bros, "Hey son, it's your world."
And God made girls (for being moms and side chicks)
God made girls (for complimenting his dick)
He stood back and told the bros, "Say she's cute and buy her pearls."
And God made girls.

Somebody's gotta show some upper leg,
Somebody's gotta hint that they want sex,
Somebody's gotta give him what he expects

So God made girls

Lyric Parody of Scotty McCreery's "Feelin' It"

  Another potty-humor lyric parody from the mind of a perpetual 13-year-old.

"Flatulence"
(Lyric Parody of Scotty McCreery's "Feelin' It")

I'm flatulent

Black beans beanin'
Salsa saucin'
Tacos down the hatch
Cheese is cheesin'
Beef is beefin'
I should have skipped this snack
Flatulence

Beer is bubblin'
Tummy's troublin'
Pressure's building' up (uh)
On a third date
I shouldn't have ate
Somethin' that would struggle in my gut (flatulence)

And I pray, I pray I can hold on
Hope nothin', nothin' will go wrong
I don't wanna play a sphincter song
Must hold it in

Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like feelin' that intestinal feelin'
Hunched up, pray for luck, God willin'
but it's flatulence, It's flatulence
Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like grinnin' while tension climbs
Drop an SBD if I can
Hope it don't get out of hand
It's flatulence
Oh, It's flatulence

Please no rippin'
Nothing for whiffin'
Slip, slippin' holdin' on tight (man this sucks)
Date gets hotter
Don't drop a rotter
Keep organs in a vice (flatulence)

And I pray, I pray I can hold on
Hope nothin', nothin' will go wrong
I don't wanna play a sphincter song
Must hold it in (like this)

Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like feelin' that intestinal feelin'
Hunched up, pray for luck, God willin'
but it's flatulence, It's flatulence
Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like grinnin' while tension climbs
Drop an SBD if I can
Hope it don't get out of hand
It's flatulence
Oh, It's flatulence

Egg needs layin'
Donkey needs brayin'
But my girl wants a kiss
Red faced confession
Gaseous expression
Baby forgive me for this
(Flatulence)

Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like feelin' that intestinal feelin'
Set free, full relief, expellin'
It's flatulence, It's flatulence
Whoa, oh no
Ain't nothin' like grinnin' when tension's gone
She just laughs as she holds my hand
She says she understands
It's flatulence
Oh, It's flatulence

We go parkin'
Kia's rockin'
Please no shartin'
Oh, I'm flatulent

Gnome Sweet Gnome

 

Gnome Sweet Gnome

(Lyric parody of Motley Crue's "Home Sweet Home" which was recently covered by Justin Moore)

You know I'm a wee man
Barely five foot three
I have to climb on a stool
Just so I can take a pee
Don't put things so high
Way up on that Walmart shelf
Can't reach the Dawn, and can't reach the veal
I'm such an elf

Put me in your lap
Hold me in your hands
Just pick me up
On your shoulders so I
Can see the rock band

I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...
Petite, petite
I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...

You know that I wear
Size four boots on my feet and
On my bus, got my own
Graco car seat

I'm just like a leprechaun
Short legs and T-rex arms
And you know no one
No one's gonna get
Me Lucky Charms

I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...
Half pint, half pint
I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...

Gnome sweet gnome...
Gnome sweet gnome...
Gnome sweet gnome...

I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...

Hey!

I'm in the way
I'm in the way
Gnome sweet gnome...

Small Town Douchebag

 Small Town Douchebag
(Lyric parody of Brantley Gilbert/Thomas Rhett/Justin Moore's "Small Town Throwdown")

Oh bruh

Around these parts his kind ain't new
No job but drives a jacked Chevrolet
Plays rap-rock, tatts on neck
3 kids from 3 girls on the way
Runs stop signs

Got a party at his folks' house tonight
Hand on his crotch, drinkin' fake shine
He loves gauge earrings and skanky girls,
Never got a ticket, claims he's done time

He's a small town douchebag
He loves to squall his tires and call people fags
And dawg, where da hoes tonight, drinkin' Natty gettin' tight
Skinny jeans or a sag, he's a small town douchebag

Yo, who got some ganja son?

Now he's got a house full of dumbass bros
Round here they're common as grass is
Rockin' Lil Wayne and FGL
Tore up, showin' their asses

What you looking at man?

Somebody says there's college boys
Rollin' in to hook up with their b**ches
If they step in there usin' fancy words
He's gonna send 'em home in stitches

He's a small town douchebag
His mean mug takes over when his brain power lags
And dawg, where da hoes tonight, drinkin' High Life gettin' tight
Fly high that rebel flag, he's a small town douchebag

C'mon

He's a small town douchebag
He loves to squall his tires and call people fags
And dawg, where da hoes tonight, drinkin' Taaka gettin' tight
Skinny jeans or a sag, he's a small town douchebag

He's a small town douchebag
He loves to squall his tires and call people fags
And dawg, where da hoes tonight, drinkin' Natty gettin' tight
Skinny jeans or a sag, he's a small town douchebag

He's a small town douchebag

WTF

If Cole Swindell's "Hope You Get Lonely" Was Honest

Hope You Get Horny

Lyric parody of Cole Swindell's "Hope You Get Lonely."

I could go for some drunken tailgate tail,
So baby come sit in my lap for a spell,
I want to hear that defeated sigh,
I'm your somethin's better than nothin' guy.
You're deep in a bottle if I know you girl,
Do what you gotta so you don't have to hurl,
Now lower your standards and your cut off jeans,
And I'll crank up some Parmalee

If you feel the shame I'm feelin' let's burn it down,
Booty call baby please don't turn it down,
If you need a little late night prick around,
I hope you get horny tonight,
We ain't gotta make out just jump me,
Do it on the truck bed, might be lumpy,
I don't care if you wake up and dump me,
I hope you get horny tonight

I don't care if you're feeling like cryin',
Girl I see the truth, your booty ain't lyin',
The bonfire is crackling, this can't be wrong,
So get out of that bikini top you got on

If you feel the shame I'm feelin' let's burn it down,
Booty call baby please don't turn it down,
If you need a little late night prick around,
I hope you get horny tonight,
We ain't gotta act too romantic,
Just sad and bored and a little frantic,
Baby this time I won't Instagram it,
I hope you get horny tonight

Hope you get horny,
Hope you get horny,
Me so horny tonight,
Girl

If you feel the shame I'm feelin' let's burn it down,
Booty call baby please don't turn it down,
If you need a little late night prick around,
I hope you get horny tonight,
We ain't gotta make out just jump me,
Do it on the truck bed, might be lumpy,
I don't care if you wake up and dump me,
I hope you get horny tonight

Rascal Flatts Covers Motley Crue

I found out yesterday that Rascal Flatts will be covering Motley Crue's "Kickstart My Heart" on Big Machine's tribute album (which also features Brantley Gilbert, Big & Rich, and the utter desecration of my adolescence). Well, the Flatts boys decided to put a personal spin on the song!* Here are the exclusive lyrics.

"Kickstart My Heart"

When I get high

I get high on eats

Ice cream Snicker bar's

A drug for me

My heart, my heart

Kickstart my heart

Always got the docs

Running tests on me

Blood pressure cuff sayin' 203

My heart, my heart

Kickstart my heart

Ooh, love spaghetti curls!

Ooh, I'm ready to chow!

Ooh, yeah

Kickstart my heart

I love custard tarts

Ooh, yeah, gravy

Ooh, yeah

Kickstart my heart

at the Burger Mart

Ooh, yeah, gravy!

Meat pies makin'

my pants stretch and strain

Or some bacon on a

Corndog goin' to my waist

My heart, my heart

Kickstart my heart

Say I want double

Double nacho fries

I'm just drooling for another pork rind

My heart, my heart

Kickstart my heart

Ooh, those nutella swirls!

Ooh, I'm ready to chow!

Ooh, yeah

Kickstart my heart

Lobster a la carte

Ooh, yeah, gravy

Ooh, yeah

Kickstart my heart

by the hotdog cart

Ooh, yeah, gravy!

When we started this band

I still fit in size 36 pants

Years gone by...

I'd say I've gained some ass

When I'm famished

Give me fried fish

Panko and ketchup cover

up my dish

Well I'd say I'm getting some bad gas

Mmmm, hmmmm, kickstart my heart

Donuts are nonstop

And to think, now I've got this…

Blood clot

Kickstart my heart

*no they didn't, I just made this crap up (but they are actually covering that song)

Eli Young Band Lyric Parody - Bath Salts Last Night

Bath Salts Last Night

(A parody of Eli Young Band's "Drunk Last Night")

I snorted bath salts last night

Went streaking in the midnight rain

Humped somebody's minivan

I'm pretty sure I broke my brain

I know I wasn't thinking straight

I couldn't tell up from right

I punched myself straight in the nuts

I snorted bath salts last night

I sniffed it all up, gave a big shout

It kinda hurt but I lost my doubts

Stole cigarettes, called my job and resigned

Two hits in, lost my shirt,

Hit my head, and blood it spurts

I swear it's the last bump every time

But that's a lie

Might've been a bad day that made me go

Down to my dealer, baby I don't know

Might've been I'm just not very bright

All I know's I snorted bath salts last night

I wore an orange traffic cone

I was king and it was my crown

I don't remember making threats

Just the police tazing me down

I sniffed it all up, gave a big shout

It kinda hurt but I lost my doubts

Stole cigarettes, called my job and resigned

Two hits in, ate my shirt,

Hit my head, and blood it spurts

I swear it's the last bump every time

But that's a lie

Might've been a bad day that made me go

Down to my dealer, baby I don't know

Might've seen a girl dancing with raccoons

Might've even puked on a skinny dude

Might've told some people I'm Luke Bryan

All I know's I snorted bath salts last night

Might've been a bad day that made me go

Down to my dealer, baby I don't know

Might've gone to Walmart in the nude

Might've climbed a pole when the cops pursued

Might've been I'm just not very bright

All I know's I snorted bath salts last night

I sniffed it all up, gave a big shout

It kinda hurt but I lost my doubts

Stole cigarettes, called my job and resigned

Two hits in, lost my shirt,

Sang Slayer songs in a church

I swear it's the last bump every time

But that's a lie

I snorted bath salts last night

I snorted bath salts last night

Sure didn't mean to eat this guy

But I snorted bath salts last night

Killin' It (Cole Swindell Parody)

"Killin' It"

(Parody of Cole Swindell's "Chillin' It")

I got my lingo, flipped cap,

You ain't gettin' country back,

Makin' my 'mill' with rock music that's twangy

Little Hank left to burn from your mem'ry,

Singing of ol' Cash fading into some old used to be,

Loretta Lynn, don't need her around.

You're flipping through the channels looking for that country sound

Well good luck with that because we're here,

Put down the tailgate, pour a beer!

I got my lingo, flipped cap,

You ain't gettin' country back,

Makin' my 'mill' with rock music that's twangy

Dumb rhymes

Fake shine

Got the girls in a line

Pickup truck

Cranked up,

Country Slim Shady

Make the bass louder now, drawl a little bit

Partyin's my cash cow, and I'm just shillin' it

I don't care about country, bro

You know I'm fine with just killin' it

Nothing but dude-bro country on radio

Girls with tan lines and snapback guys and big Fords row on row.

To me that sounds like Heaven, kiss my ass Charley Pride

Who wants to listen to Haggard in their ride?

I got my tattoo, gun rack,

You ain't takin' country back,

Makin' my 'mill' with rock music that's twangy

Mud tires

Bonfires

Got the girls in a line

Pickup truck

Cranked up,

Country Slim Shady

Make the bass louder now, drawl a little bit

Country is my cash cow, but I'm just shillin' it

Long as I'm making fat stacks, bro

You know I'm fine with just killin' it

Nothing like a little girl in real tight jeans

I don't even know what country means

I got my fine hoes, cool frat,

You ain't gettin' country back,

Makin' my 'mill' with rock music that's twangy

Long necks

Short sex

With girls drunk on Boone's Wine

Pickup truck

Cranked up,

Country Slim Shady

Make the bass louder now, drawl a little bit

Country is my cash cow, but I'm just milkin' it

Long as I'm making fat stacks, bro

You know I'm fine with just killin' it

Hey, we're not hurting country music, we're just killing it

Billy Currington - Hey Girl: Parody Lyric

If Billy does time for his crime....

Hey Boy

(Parody of Billy Currington's "Hey Girl")

Hey boy, what's your name boy

I've been starin' at you

And every con here's doin' the same boy

It'd be a shame boy

If I didn't make you my beyotch

'Cause I'm all caught up in your brown curls

A boy like you's the closest thing to a girl

Clean skin, gotta make you my friend

Gonna make you my favorite trick on the cell block

I know we ain't met yet but I'll give you protection

Knowin' you wouldn't even last through the night and

You might think I'm ugly

But what rhymes with "hug me"?

You're lookin' so clean, you'll be my prom queen

I'll make it quick, we don't even have to kiss

Yo boy, whatcha know boy

I could use a cigarette, wontcha go get me something to smoke boy

Before you go boy

Remember I've got your back

And if you want we can go slow

So take your time and get to know

This prison bar I've got for you

I can see the worry in those pretty eyes of blue

I know we ain't met yet but I'll give you protection

Knowin' you wouldn't even last through the night and

You might think I'm ugly

But what rhymes with "hug me"?

You're lookin' so clean, you'll be my prom queen

I'll make it quick, we don't even have to kiss

Hey boy

Ooh, baby welcome to block C

Jumpsuit lookin' sexy to me

Hey boy, whatcha say boy

About you and me goin' all the way boy

I know we ain't met yet but I'll give you protection

Knowin' you wouldn't even last through the night and

Yeah, I'm big and ugly

But what rhymes with "hug me"?

You're lookin' so fresh, got moisturized flesh

I'll make it quick, we don't even have to kiss

Hey boy, oh yeah

Oh, hey boy

You're lookin' so clean, you'll be my prom queen

I'll make it quick, we don't even have to kiss

Hey boy

Oh yeah

Parody Lyric: Redneck Lazy

Redneck Lazy

(Parody of Tyler Farr's "Redneck Crazy")

Gonna sleep till noon in this La-z Boy

Crack a tall boy open with some sardines

Turn on that Maury show, pick scabs on my elbow

Don't ask me to do a single thing

I'm gonna aim my iPad right toward some hardcore porno

Throw empty Schlitz cans out of the trailer window

Might watch some old Randy Savage fights, chain smoke 3 packs of Marlboro Lights

Ever since I lost my white trash baby, been livin' redneck lazy

Wish she was still here to bring me some chips

Pay the cable and put gas in my ride

Now the bills are piling up but I don't really give a what

If the tax man comes for me, here's what he'll find

I'll be aiming' my iPad right toward some busty porno

Throwin' empty Natty cans out of the trailer window

Watchin' old tapes of Baywatch Nights, chain smokin' 3 packs of Marlboro Lights

Ever since I lost my white trash baby, I'm livin' redneck lazy

Did she think I'd go out and get a job and become a success

You know that I'm more of a free livin' man

But I'm motivated enough to have some plans

I'm gonna aim my iPad right toward some midget porno

Throw empty Pabst cans out of the trailer window

Might watch some old Bill Goldberg fights, chain smoke 3 packs of Marlboro Lights

Ever since I lost my white trash baby, been livin' redneck lazy

She left me redneck lazy

(Yes, there is already a "Redneck Lazy" out there... 

What else are you gonna call a parody of "Redneck Crazy?")

Blake Shelton Parody Lyric: "Boyz Round Here"

Boyz Round Here

(Parody of Blake Shelton's "Boys Round Here")

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumbass

Well the boys 'round here don't graduate from high school

Drunk as Bocephus, sit around and shoot pool

In a trailer park, laugh and light farts

All day; what? (Okaayy)

Yea, and how they flauntin', selling Oxycontin

Gotta move a few more pills, make a few meth deals

To get paid, to drive that Ford

It's a hard knock life (Eighteen with two ex-wives)

Yea the boyz 'round here

Drinking that Busch Ice beer

Talkin' 'bout hos, hangin' truck nuts

Saggin' them sparkle jeans down, showin' some butt

The boyz 'round here

Hell naw they ain't scared to drive around impaired

Fake-ass hicks with skulls so thick

Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, cancer of the lip

Aw heck

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumbass

Well the boyz 'round here claim they're really country

Rebel flag sticker and got Lil Wayne bumpin'

Ex-private school thuggin', Affliction shirt lovin'

And these girls 'round here, in the dark ain't that ugly

Yea, the girls 'round here, they're all bow-legged

Don't take too much work to get them chicks nekkid

Apple pie shine and a little beggin'

And they'll all end up on 16 & Pregnant

From the boyz 'round here

Drinking that Busch Ice beer

Talkin' 'bout hos, hangin' truck nuts

Saggin' them sparkle jeans down, showin' some butt

The boyz 'round here

Hell naw they ain't scared to work at the fair

Fake-ass hicks with skulls so thick

Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, cancer of the lip

Let me hear you say

(Ooh let's pose)

(Ooh let's pose)

For the bros and the hos

(Ooh truck truck…)

Hey now girl, gimme some

Baby you lookin' kinda sexy and dumb in them cutoffs

Truck truck (Truck truck)

Lay in my Chevy bed

Moanin' and some groanin', then a cigarette

Go no regrets

Till you turn up expectin' a…

Dad dad dad dad dad dadless rugrat

But still you wanna get down with a…

Fake fake fake fake fake fake redneck?

Girl you gotta nice butt

Yea the boyz 'round here

Drinking that Busch Ice beer

Talkin' 'bout hos, hangin' truck nuts

Scopin' them dairy goats out, feelin' some lust

The boyz 'round here

Hell naw they ain't scared to drive around impaired

Backwoods hicks with skulls so thick

Chew tobacco, chew tobacco, cancer of the lip

(Ooh let's pose)

Dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb dumbass

(Ooh let's pose)

I'm one of them boyz 'round here

(Ooh let's pose)

A dumb dumb dumb dumb dumbass

(Ooh let's pose)

"Sure Be Cool if They Did" - Guest Submission Blake Shelton Parody

Sure Be Cool If They Did

Parody lyric by Greg Swartzentruber

I don’t needa song wit’ real heart, I'll start singing about anything
And it’ll hit the charts cuz I’m starring on The Voice ya see
Here’s one thing we can agree on, nobody needs a clever rhyme for neon
And even though it should, don’t gotta be good


You don’t have to write me a song with any more substance than this
'Cause I’m a big star
You don’t have to spill out your heart on the page like you can write, 'cause
They don’t care what the words are
You can even finish up the chorus with some nonsense
‘bout a little bit of country song, hanging on
They ain’t gonna demand better than this
But it’d sure be cool if they did


You can shoot me down but it’s gonna hit number one
Don’t need much of a story if the melody’s kinda fun
Just talk a bit about a girl, y’all, and a little alcohol
Baby, it’s fine, you even can repeat a line, repeat a line


You don’t have to write me a song with any more substance than this
Cuz I’m a big star
You don’t have to spill out your heart on the page like you can write
‘Cause they don’t care what the words are
You can even finish up the chorus with some nonsense
‘bout a little bit of country song, hanging on
They ain’t gonna demand better than this
But it’d sure be cool if they did


Just write a song they’ll quickly forget
Repeat the stuff we all agree on, don’t need a clever rhyme for neon


You don’t have to write me a song with any more substance than this
Cuz I’m a big star
You don’t have to spill out your heart on the page like you can write
‘Cause they don’t care what the words are
You can even finish up the chorus with some nonsense
‘bout a little bit of country song, hanging on
They ain’t gonna demand better than this
But it’d sure be cool if they did
Yeah it’d sure be cool if they did

Brad Paisley Lyric Parody: Pseudo Country Zone

Pseudo Country Zone

(Parody of Brad Paisley's "Southern Comfort Zone")

When your wheelhouse is the sound of Aldean,

The first time you leave it can be weird, but you're appalling

Not everybody drinks and drives, not everybody is a tool

Not every girl wears cut offs, on dates and job interviews

Not everybody likes to pose or dance around on CMT

Not everybody has to list country things to prove they're country

Oh, douchey man,

You won't understand

When I miss Merle singin' me back home

And I'm tired of pickup truck songs

I will lose IQ points till I go

Outside the pseudo country zone

I have heard the songs of Snow; Jr. ain't the only "Hank"

I don't think a country song should make my speakers crank

I have seen Keith Whitley play at a southern rodeo

He didn't mention pasture fights or bust out a hip-hop flow

I really don't like to see somebody take a pee,

All over the things I cherish like art and honesty

And I miss Merle singin' me back home

And I'm tired of pickup truck songs

I will lose IQ points till I go

Outside the pseudo country zone

I hate your tight jeans and your shakin'

Guitars jamming, disco lights

You're so well-trained at fakin'

Unscuffed Justins, teeth pearly white

I have since become a wanderer

Cause I'm sick of all that crap

Sometimes to find a real treasure

You have to leave the beaten path

Clearchannel's playin' a dick again

And I miss Merle singin' me back home

And I'm tired of pickup truck songs

I will lose IQ points till I go

Outside the pseudo country zone