Gulf Coast Cowboy

[Verse 1]
Sunburnt neck
Sand in my beer
You roll up talkin’
Like you run things here
Boots on my cooler
Hand on my chair
You really picked
The wrong damn chair
[Chorus]
I’m a Gulf Coast cowboy
Hat low
Eyes hard
Tryna watch the waves
You’re killin’ my yard
You want a piece of me? I’ll give you a part
Take your big-city mouth
Your brand-new heart
And fuck off back where you came from
Yeah
Fuck off back where you came from (hey!)
[Verse 2]
I got shrimp on the grill
Salt on my skin
You got jokes ‘bout my town
‘Bout the way we live
You say this place
Ain’t worth spit or song
Cool story
Sweetheart
Keep movin’ along
[Chorus]
I’m a Gulf Coast cowboy
Hat low
Eyes hard
Tryna watch the waves
You’re killin’ my yard
You want a piece of me? I’ll give you a part
Take your big-city mouth
Your brand-new heart
And fuck off back where you came from
Yeah
Fuck off back where you came from (woah)
[Bridge]
Maybe it’s the tide
Maybe it’s the rum
But I got one word
Rollin’ off my tongue
You don’t like my drawl?
You don’t like my shore?
Gate’s right there
Don’t let it hit you on your way—
[Chorus]
‘Cause I’m a Gulf Coast cowboy
Hat low
Eyes hard
This porch
This view
This beat-up yard
You want a fight? I’ll just raise my glass
Toast to your truck
And your leavin’ ass
So fuck off back where you came from
Yeah
Fuck off back where you came from (one more time)
Fuck off back where you came from

Laid-back outlaw country swagger with a salty Gulf breeze; brushed drums and twangy telecaster over a loose barroom groove, shuffling bass and a loping acoustic. Male vocals with a smirk, half-sung half-talked verses; choruses open with stacked gang vocals and bright pedal steel fills. Final pass gets rowdier with claps and shouted ad-libs like a tipsy dockside singalong.