Trailer Park Trash

Yeah, you talkin' tough from your rusted little lot,

But I see right through you, boy, you ain't got a shot.

Here's a little story, bout a man so broke,

Livin' in a trailer, caught up in your joke.

You call yourself a redneck, but your pockets ain't deep,

Three divorces down, now you cry yourself to sleep.

Can't even afford a truck, yet you talk real tough,

While my Chevy's rollin' clean, man, you ain't got enough.

You're fussin' about my music, mad I get it on the radio,

But your life’s a sad song, and I hate to see it so.

Keep throwin' stones from your trailer park shack,

But your words are cheap and they ain't got no meat.

Square body Chevy, hittin' on the beat,

While your life’s a mess, in that trailer trash seat.

You hate my country tunes, can't handle the fame,

Boy, your life’s a wreck, you’re just an empty name.

You dream of my ride, but your bankroll’s thin,

Three times divorced, where do you even begin?

Talk all you want, but I’m runnin’ this town,

While you’re stuck in the mud, just calling for help like a clown.

So keep talkin' 'bout my song, and how I shine,

Your life’s so lonely, boy, that’s your design.

Square body Chevy, I roll with pride,

While you’re just a ghost with all that trailer park pride.