Straight out of Nashville, here's your next big star
He don't write the songs he sings, but he knows the words by heart
Wears a cowboy hat, and some tight blue jeans,
And he struts around the stage like he's the coolest thing you've ever seen

Oh you gotta love him!

He looks like a super model, knows how to strike a pose
And he don't mind the makeup, as long as no one knows
And he's got that crooked grin, and talks with a southern drawl,
Acts like Toby Keith, but sounds a lot like Tim McGraw

But if he's country I'll kiss your ass,
And throw all my Willie Nelson records in the trash
He's the same old shit in a slightly different bag,
But if he's country, well then country's pretty bad

I don't watch CMT
Naw that shit makes me sick
And that ole Kenny Chesney,
What a hypocrite

He'll swear he's country,
But he lives in the Caribbean
Sings all about the islands now,
What happened to the Tennessean

Aw if he's country I'll kiss your ass
Throw all my Johnny Cash records in the trash
He's all about image cuz image pays the bucks,
Aw but if he's country, well then country really sucks

What happened to the outlaws,
Who weren't afraid to cross the line
What happened to the workin' man,
Who sang the truth about their troubled lives

I was raised in Georgia, in a one red light town
And my daddy picked guitar in every honky tonk around
And he taught me all the good stuff,
That solid country gold, but now I love it all from hip-hop to rock and roll

And to thank country, well I don't give a damn
My daddy taught me to be own kinda man
He said "Son you don't have to go along with the crow"
So if I ain't country then I'm pretty frickin proud
Oh Well I don't need their labels anyhow