Untitled

Yeah, you talk real loud from a rusted back lot,

Act hard in your mouth but your hands say not.

You preach that tough-guy, small-town code,

But your image fall apart when the truth get exposed.

You call me fake country, say I changed my ways,

But you rock painted nails tryin’ to look “edgy” these days.

Sippin’ iced coffee, straw in your lip,

While you talk ‘bout red dirt like you ever lived it.

You flex that persona, but it don’t add up,

You cosplay blue-collar, I actually show up.

Talk down on my grind, say the radio’s rigged,

Funny how my name movin’ and yours still hid.

You mad at my sound ‘cause it broke past your fence,

But growth make insecure men tense.

You criticize me just to feel relevant,

I build my lane while you tweet your resentment.

You say I ain’t country, say I sold my soul,

But I still sweat hard work, still play my role.

You paint your nails talkin’ ‘bout “manly pride,”

I ain’t judge—but don’t lie what side you ride.

You clown my Chevy like it’s all for show,

But it’s paid off clean, every mile I know.

You judge by appearance, miss the bigger picture,

I was stackin’ hours while you worried ‘bout filters.

You sip cold drinks call it “modern taste,”

But don’t diss tradition if you ain’t lived that place.

I don’t hate the style, I just hate the front,

Don’t sell outlaw stories if you ain’t done none.

This ain’t nails or coffee, do what you do,

Just don’t play a role that ain’t true to you.

Be yourself, don’t bark at me,

‘Cause I live my lines, not pretend on beats.

You say I ain’t country, say I lost my way,

But I still bleed red dirt at the end of the day.

You judge my success, say I changed inside,

Nah—I just grew while you stayed confined.

So keep my name buzzin’, yeah, pour another cup,

Every diss you drop just level me up.

Painted nails, iced coffee, that’s your scene,

Just don’t question my roots when you livin’ a dream. 🔥