Is That a Pocket-Sized Pencil in Your Pants?

[Verse 1]
Eight ball corner pocket
Cowgirl boots on the rail
Lowcut red top, tight blue denim
Breaking hearts and I’m racking up ale
He sidles up all swagger
Says, “Girl, you like what you see?”
I raise my shot of tequila
Say, “Boy, that depends on the jeans”
[Chorus]
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
Or you just nervous staring at this stance
You keep glancing at my neckline
Like you’re praying for a chance
Tell me, baby, is that courage or a crayon
Tryin’ real hard to dance
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
(or you happy just to see my tight denim advance)
[Verse 2]
He says he’s good at geometry
Can “measure every curve just right” (oh yeah)
I say, “You might need a bigger ruler
If you’re drawing what you claim tonight”
He nearly drops his cue stick
Blushing like a cherry lime
I chalk my stick, sink two solids
Say, “Honey, you’re behind”
[Chorus]
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
Or you daydreamin’ ’bout this slow-hand prance
You keep trippin’ on your cool talk
Spillin’ compliments like grants
Tell me, baby, is that courage or a crayon
Stickin’ out there like a stance
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
(or a sharpened little ego hopin’ for romance)
[Bridge]
[Band drops, handclaps and fiddle riff]
Line ’em up, boy, truth or dare
You brought that tiny toolkit here
Big talk, small…equipment share
But I still bought you that beer (hey!)
[Chorus]
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
Or just a tiny trophy for your braggy rants
You keep losin’ every pool game
But you’re nailed to my neckline trance
Tell me, baby, is that courage or a crayon
Making all that little noise in advance
Is that a pocket-sized pencil in your pants
’Cause I’m laughin’ while I’m winnin’ and I just might give you one last chance

country, Bright, up-tempo modern country with female vocals; twangy Telecaster and barroom piano over a driving two-step groove. Verses stay tight and conversational with brushed snare and walking bass; chorus explodes with stacked harmonies, fiddle fills, and stomps. Tequila-shot ad-libs and playful crowd whoops punch the jokes; keep everything crisp and radio-ready., happy