If Payton Gill was my man, I’d pack a bag
Hit the next town over, leave without a flag
He got that haircut like he still shops at Sears
Talkin’ tough, but cries when he trims his beard
He drives a lifted truck he can’t even park
Says he’s a cowboy — boy, please, where’s the spark?
If he took me out, I’d fake a phone call
“Sorry babe, my grandma died… again, y’all.”
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If it was my man, I’d cheat on him twice
Once with his cousin, then roll the dice
Tell the mailman “come on in” just for thrills
Anything’s better than Payton Gill
He’s sweet, sure, but Lord he’s slow—
Takes him five minutes just to tie a bow
If he was my man, I’d cheat on him fast
And leave his toothbrush in the dog’s ass
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He wears shorts in the winter and says it’s “a flex”
Still uses Axe body spray and thinks he’s complex
He asked me once if “eggs come from bees”
Payton, babe, go sit down, please
He snaps with filters and pouts his lips
Says “I’m different” — nah, just mid
Tried to freestyle once, made my ears quit
Said “yo yo yo” and forgot his own bit
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If it was my man, I’d cheat on him bold
With a dude who actually lifts and folds
Might hit his boss up for Netflix and chills
At least he ain’t named Payton Gill
He’s a friend, sure, but damn he’s weird—
Textin’ “wyd” with a patchy beard
If he was my man, I’d cheat on him bad
Then tell his mama that I’m still sad
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Oh Payton, you’re sweet like lemonade
But I’d still ghost you at the Chick-fil-A
This ain’t hate, it’s just tough love
From a friend who’d run if you tried to hug
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If it was my man, I’d cheat on him loud
Bring another dude to the cookout crowd
Kiss his best friend right on the grill
Just to see the face of Payton Gill
You’re my boy, but you ain’t the catch—
You’re the warning label, not the match
If he was my man, I’d cheat and dip—
Then roast his ass on a country hit
