Honest Lyrics: Luke Bryan, Kelsea Ballerini, etc.

If _____ Wrote a Christmas Song: 2015

Cole Swindell

Hey Ms. Claus I wanna wish you well

Let me watch you shake that thang like a bell

Come and take a ride in my jacked up sleigh

One arm round you, one holding the reins

We'll jingle ling down a gravel road

Make a little joy, who cares if it's cold?

Jay-Z

I'm a gift in every sense of the word, grinch

Better trust and believe in

Santa Claus this evenin'

Spreadin' joy like what, gonna roast them chestnuts

HOV!

Old Dominion

Greetings girl, what's up?

It's a holiday, but I knew you'd pick it up

What you got on?

Are you wearing that mistletoe thong I bought ya

I know you've dialed "91_" on your land line, but I'm hopin' you don't call

I'm watching through your window, and I brought you some Christmas balls

Slayer

Holiday bell ensemble

Joyous to see

Reindeer flying through the night

But then strikes tragedy

Gunshots o'er Tennessee

Hunting season's siege

Santa's team falls under the blade

Venison sausage is made

Nicki Minaj

This dude named Kringle used to make me merriest

Sack bigger than a mountain, I ain't talking about Everest

Real jolly ass elf, let me drive his snow speeder

Cookies made his mouth water, now he calling me Keebler

Kacey Musgraves

Misspelled Christmas on the trailer deck

Cause there's rum in my cider glass

If you hear the neighbors gossiping

Tell 'em they can kiss my merry ass

If Florida-Georgia Line Had Written "Ironic"

(Alanis Morisette's "Ironic")

Honest Aircheck Country Top 21 Songs

Honest Billboard Chart Update - Sept. 2015

Click the image if you have trouble reading it

Congrats for Being Pretty!

The Band Perry Returns with a New Member?

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

FGL's Got the Big Head Now

Waylon's Singing a New Theme Song Now

Confederate Flag Gets Dukes of Hazzard Yanked

"Take Your Dime," a Sam Hunt Lyric Parody

 So, I took the parody from this meme and expanded it to the full song...

Take Your Dime
(Parody of Sam Hunt's "Take Your Time")

I'm pretty sure you were looking at me, I'm hot


Your boyfriend is only five foot nine


And I used to play some football but


Now I'm just writing lines


And looking fine

And you know my name


'Cause everybody on Tumblr knows my name


And you just listen to what's popular right now


So girl, just turn some Sam Hunt on


How can that be wrong


My eyes are so captivating


My cap is flat-billed but


It's just a fashion statement


No girl I'm not gonna twang it


I'm not country


Can't stand it, but I pretend to

Chorus
I don't wanna sing like Waylon
You won't hear a fiddle whine
I don't even sound like country
I just wanna take your dime

I would rather play some Kanye
Sure not into Patsy Cline
I don't care 'bout steel guitars
I just wanna steel your dime

And it starts on Vimeo


And the next thing you know you're checking Spotify


Then you're pretty much obsessed


Haters just chap your butt


Responding "jealous much?"

And I'm sure you've gotten into debates in the Twittersphere


'Cause you're defending my honor to bloggers


That talk too much noise about my pop songs


"But country is evolving" yeah, you know that line so well

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes


Cause you're under my spell


High school poetry


Brings you to tears


I sing like an auctioneer


Fake chivalry makes your heart glow

Chorus
I don't wanna sing like Waylon
You won't hear a fiddle whine
I don't even sound like country
I just wanna take your dime

I would rather play some Kanye
Hang with Florida-Georgia Line
I don't care 'bout steel guitars
I just wanna steel your dime

Woah, I don't wanna sing Jones to you


Woah, I just want ninety-nine cents from you

I don't wanna sing like Paycheck
You won't hear a tear-filled line
I don't even sound like country
I just wanna take your dime

I would rather play some Jay-Z
Sure not into Patsy Cline
I don't care 'bout old dive bars
I just wanna take your dime

No, You ain't gotta call me country


As long as all my checks are signed


I know the way to teen hearts


I just wanna take your dime, ooh

Who's Gonna Fill Their Shoes? (Another Hilarious New Parody/Satire)

Well done, Marilyn Branson!

Band Mashup: Raelynn Sremmurd

The 12 Bros of Christmas

The 12 Bros of Christmas

On the first day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
A startling STD

On the second day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the third day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the fourth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Four V-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the fifth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the sixth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the seventh day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the eighth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Eight trucknuts swinging
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the ninth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Nine hoes a twerking
Eight trucknuts swinging
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the tenth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Ten Fords on Nittos
Nine hoes a twerking
Eight trucknuts swinging
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the eleventh day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
Eleven Swishers lighting
Ten Fords on Nittos
Nine hoes a twerking
Eight trucknuts swinging
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

On the twelfth day of Christmas
a dude bro sent to me:
12” subs thumping
Eleven Swishers lighting
Ten Fords on Nittos
Nine hoes a twerking
Eight trucknuts swinging
Seven jeans so skinny
Six tans a spraying
Five chromed-out things
Four v-neck shirts
Three dick pics
Two Jäger bombs
and a startling STD

Classic Christmas Album Covers: Bleeding Cowboys

Dustin Lynch, Parmalee, Chase Bryant: 1 Ad, 3 Times the Hatin'

Misheard Lyrics: Garth Brooks

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

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

We Are Bro Country

We Are Bro-Country

(Lyric parody of Hank Jr's "Young 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!