(Tempo: 120 BPM, heavy 808 bass kicks mixed with a fast-picking banjo)
(Intro: Sound of a heavy trap beat dropping, overlaid with a comedic "yee-haw" and a record scratch)
(Verse 1)
Yeah, buckle up, buttercup
Ashlee and Alyssa yeah, they’re acting all country
They got the matching cowboy boots, brand new out the box
Still got the price tags stuck on the side of their socks
They walk into the barn talkin' 'bout "Where’s the plow?"
But they wouldn't know the front end from the tail of a cow
They’re talkin' 'bout the farm, talkin' 'bout the muddy track
But they're just city-dwellers, yeah, that’s just a fact.
(Chorus)
They’re the Gucci-boot-scootin', suburban-farm-trouble
Livin' that country life? Man, that’s just a bubble
With the eight oh eights thumpin' while they talk about the hay
But they haven't seen a tractor since their wedding day
Yeah, the twins are fakin', they ain’t country
Like a plastic rodeo, just a puff of glitter smoke!
(Verse 2)
They’re posting selfies on the porch with a sweet tea glass
But the filter makes the backyard look like blue-ribbon grass
They’re tryin' to identify a crop in the field
"Is that kale? Is it parsley?"—Yeah, that’s the deal
They hear a rooster crow and they both start to scream
"Is that a drone, honey? Is it part of the dream?"
They bought a horse statue just to put it on the lawn
Then they went inside for Starbucks before the crack of dawn.
(Chorus)
They’re the Gucci-boot-scootin', suburban-farm-trouble
Livin' that country life? Man, that’s just a bubble
With the eight oh eights thumpin' while they talk about the hay
But they haven't seen a tractor since their wedding day
Yeah, the twins are fakin', they ain’t country
Like a plastic rodeo, just a puff of glitter smoke!
(Bridge)
They talk in that twang, tryin' to sound like Loretta
But their GPS is stuck on "get me to the outlet center"
Double the trouble, double the fake
They’re the biggest city-slickers that this state could make!
(Banjo solo with excessive auto-tune vocal ad-libs: Yeah, giddy-up, uh-huh, bless their hearts...)
(Outro)
So if you see 'em in the truck (that they never drive)
Just know that it’s all for the Gram, keepin' the act alive
Twin trouble, city-style
Just keep 'em away from the manure pile
Yeah... that’s country.
(Beat drops out, just the banjo fading)
"Hey babe, is that an actual chicken? Gross."
(Music ends)
Would you like me to generate a music track for these lyrics?
Zane_Blackwood
