I’m from Texas!

Absolutely. I’m making this obnoxiously, unnecessarily Texan—the kind of song where the narrator treats crossing the state line like a personality disorder.

I’M FROM TEXAS!

Where you from, buddy?

Texas.

No, I mean what city?

I SAID TEXAS.

I was born beneath a Whataburger sign,

With a brisket in my hand and a Lone Star state of mind.

My first word was “howdy,” my second word was “y’all,”

My third was “Texas,” then I learned no words at all.

Got a pickup truck that’s seventeen feet tall,

Never hauled a damn thing, but I’m proud of it, y’all.

Got boots for the office, boots for the lake,

And special Sunday boots for eatin’ chicken-fried steak.

You ask me where I’m headed—

TEXAS!

You ask me where I’ve been—

TEXAS!

You ask my blood type—

TEXAS POSITIVE!

And I’ll tell you again!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

In case you didn’t know!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

I tell everybody everywhere I go!

Big hat! Big truck! Big belt buckle too!

I’ve been talking for an hour

And you never even asked me to!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

That’s basically my résumé!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

And I mention it twelve times a day!

You can talk about yourself,

But I’ll interrupt you right on cue—

“THAT REMINDS ME OF TEXAS!”

No it doesn’t.

But I’m telling you!

I measure every highway by how long it takes to cross,

I put hot sauce on my hot sauce just to show that I’m the boss.

My thermostat says ninety, but I call that “kinda cool,”

And my high school football stadium is larger than your school.

I say “Don’t mess with Texas” when somebody takes my chair,

I say “Everything is bigger” when it clearly isn’t there.

I saw a normal-sized hamburger and nearly called the law,

Then ordered seventeen pounds of beef and ate that sucker raw!

The stars at night—

ARE BIG AND BRIGHT!

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

Deep in the heart of—

WAIT!

Did I mention—

I’M FROM TEXAS?!

Went vacationing in Paris, told the waiter, “Nice little town.”

Went to Rome and told the Romans, “We got bigger stuff around.”

Saw the mighty Himalayas, said, “They’re decent, I suppose.”

Then showed everybody pictures of a Buc-ee’s that I know.

I don’t need a passport, I’ve got Texas on my shirt,

Texas on my coffee mug and Texas on my dirt.

Texas on my license plate, my cooler and my hat,

Got a tattoo shaped like Texas

ON ANOTHER TATTOO SHAPED LIKE TEXAS ON MY BACK!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

Everybody understand?!

I’M FROM TEXAS!

It’s less a state and more a brand!

I’m loud! I’m proud!

I’ve got a smoker and a plan!

And if you somehow missed it—

I’M!

FROM!

TEXAAAAAAAAAS!

Anyway, enough about me.

Where are you from?

…Ohio?

Huh.

Never been there.

So anyway, back in Texas—