Lyrics:
beer When they fire up the grill They'll line up at the port-a-Johns real soon If you ask me there ain't nothing louder Than a country music concert
and achey joints Its hard to feel spiritual when you've lost your faith In a dark porta-john, holding a loaded nine millimeter That's the real reason you
existence The portajohn is where you'll find me shittin' Who's on the ground, 'cuz that's my competition I'll battle whoever Any type of day, time,
Sometimes being in my head is just really hard (At least that's what she said) I get sad but not completely I can always laugh at porta-john graffiti I know
the porta-john Woah man, go ahead and shoot your shot boy I stay scorin' like van Nistelrooy I'm so rude with it you talk it I go get it If you had to do it like
on the farm There's old Rick heading for the port-a-john Said, keep calm and combine on Hands up if you're country proud Come on ya'll let's get country loud
(Talking) A wise old novelist once said that anybody could rig up their own border. Just rent a cheap trailer, a port-a-john, a little bumberbarticle
(Talking) A wise old novelist once said that anybody could rig up their own border. Just rent a cheap trailer, a port-a-john, a little bumberbarticle
just worthless. You're one in a million. Where is god? The ornament, the holiday song whored out on reading materials in latrines and porta-johns
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