Parking Lot Poot

[Verse 1]
Backseat booster
Ketchup on my face
Happy Meal toy
Crumbs every place
She said
“Scoot closer
It’s starting to rain”
Rolled up the window
That’s when it came (oh no)
[Chorus]
My mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot
Thunder in her blue jeans
Smelled worse than what I got
From the value menu sittin’ in that paper bag so hot
Yeah
My mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot (woo!)
[Verse 2]
She just laughed
Said
“Boy
Don’t you dare tell”
Eyes start waterin’
Couldn’t blame the smell
Tried to crack the door
She hit the lock
Said
“We’re in this together” then she let another drop (lord help me)
[Chorus]
My mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot
Thought it was the truck fumes
Turns out
Nope
It was not
Golden arches shining while my little soul just fought
’Cause my mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot
[Bridge]
Now I’m grown up
Got kids of my own
Drive-thru dinners
Fries on the phone
When my belly rumbles
I smile and I plot
“C’mon kids
Hop in
Let’s park in that same old spot” (gotcha!)
[Chorus]
’Cause my mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot
Family tradition
Like it or not
If love is embarrassing
We sure love a lot
Yeah
My mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot
My mama farted on me in the McDonald’s parking lot

rock, Twangy country rock with a bar-band feel: crunchy Telecaster riffs, walking bass, and a loose backbeat. Verses stay tight and story-driven; chorus jumps with gang vocals and clap accents. A brief slide guitar lick answers key punchlines. Male vocals with a playful drawl, wry delivery and a big, shout-along hook., country rock