You Sick Son Of A B****

Verse 1:
We’re Rolling down highway 35. 
My diesel engine roaring loud,
Got the boss sitting in the passenger seat, 
But something's brewing slowly, a smell that starts to creep,
A loud wet rumble in the silence that’s making my eyes start to burn. 

Chorus:
The smile on your face confirmed that you definitely just farted, 
Oh my goodness role down the windows, I hope that you sharted. 
Working with you in this small single cab  truck makes me sick
I hope next time you shit yourself, you Stinky son of a b***h!

Verse 2:
Eighteen wheels are spinning, but the air is standing still,
The smell is getting stronger, against my very will.
He grins and keeps on laughing, not a care inside his mind. 
Already I’m breathing in the toxic air, you’re fanning it from behind. 

Chorus:
The smile on your face confirmed that you definitely just farted, 
Oh my goodness role down the windows, I hope that you sharted. 
Working with you in this small single cab  truck makes me sick
I hope next time you shit yourself, you Nasty son of a b***h!

Bridge:
My mouth was open, I didn't want to have to taste that,
The smell was worse than roadkill left out where it's at.
He's grinning like a madman, enjoying every breath,
This ride is pure torture, I'm wishing for my death.

Chorus:
The smile on your face confirmed that you definitely just farted, 
Oh my goodness role down the windows, I hope that you sharted. 
Working with you in this small single cab  truck makes me sick
I hope next time you shit yourself, you Sick son of a b***h!

Outro:
This ain't no way to travel, this ain't no way to ride, 
With flatulence and madness just inches to my side. 
A delivery route nightmare, a trucker's worst damn fear, 
When bodily functions become my personal atmosphere. 

Talking:
Man what did you eat? 
You’re a sick son of a b***h...!!!

Modern Country, deep raspy baritone, Funny acoustic ballad, angry vocals, soft guitar, disgusted tone, slow, live