Aw, they gon' be mad about this one, boys
Oh well, it'll be alright
F*ck award shows, f*ck the radio
And the new up-and-comer and
His female clothes
With his glitter on his face
And his prewritten songs
He ain't from 'round here and
Neither is his boss
F*ck the guy in the office
With his Jheri curl
And his hands super soft like a teenage girl
F*ck social media and them long hashtags
With your bitch made album
Cover lookin' like a, heh
Yeah, I said the word "f*ck" in
A song on the charts
Prolly breakin' beta male achy breaky hearts
With their mocha lattes and
Sparkly blue scarfs
Sittin' in the room tryna
F*ckin' talk like us
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it
So by now, you probably figured it out
Mainstream pissed me off and made
Me have a dirty mouth but on the flip side
Here's a little known fact
I was born in Music City, still get no slack
I got country songs tippin' a hundred million
Get played at every mud park across Dixie
Not to mention female singers wanna
Come and frisk me
Especially when we're stoned in my F-150
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
This part of the song is called the bridge
And I'm 'bout to burn it down
And make aware these sissy-ass big wigs
Can stop f*ckin' up my hometown
And I don't wanna hear that
We ain't good enough
Or the radio ain't got room
Bitch, I get the same spins
On my Spotify list
As your newest and hottest do
'Cause if country music was a rooster
I'd prolly be a big Cuban dong
If country music was a six
Cock derby in Kentucky
Be the last one standin' tall
If country music was a walk string and barrel
I'd break loose and strut the yard
'Cause we are to country like
Rooster feed to a bucket
And we like songs that say f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it, woo
Said Fuck It Video (MV)
Upchurch - Said Fuck It Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Aw, they gon' be mad about this one, boys
Oh well, it'll be alright
F*ck award shows, f*ck the radio
And the new up-and-comer and
His female clothes
With his glitter on his face
And his prewritten songs
He ain't from 'round here and
Neither is his boss
F*ck the guy in the office
With his Jheri curl
And his hands super soft like a teenage girl
F*ck social media and them long hashtags
With your bitch made album
Cover lookin' like a, heh
Yeah, I said the word "f*ck" in
A song on the charts
Prolly breakin' beta male achy breaky hearts
With their mocha lattes and
Sparkly blue scarfs
Sittin' in the room tryna
F*ckin' talk like us
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it
So by now, you probably figured it out
Mainstream pissed me off and made
Me have a dirty mouth but on the flip side
Here's a little known fact
I was born in Music City, still get no slack
I got country songs tippin' a hundred million
Get played at every mud park across Dixie
Not to mention female singers wanna
Come and frisk me
Especially when we're stoned in my F-150
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
This part of the song is called the bridge
And I'm 'bout to burn it down
And make aware these sissy-ass big wigs
Can stop f*ckin' up my hometown
And I don't wanna hear that
We ain't good enough
Or the radio ain't got room
Bitch, I get the same spins
On my Spotify list
As your newest and hottest do
'Cause if country music was a rooster
I'd prolly be a big Cuban dong
If country music was a six
Cock derby in Kentucky
Be the last one standin' tall
If country music was a walk string and barrel
I'd break loose and strut the yard
'Cause we are to country like
Rooster feed to a bucket
And we like songs that say f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it, woo
Oh well, it'll be alright
F*ck award shows, f*ck the radio
And the new up-and-comer and
His female clothes
With his glitter on his face
And his prewritten songs
He ain't from 'round here and
Neither is his boss
F*ck the guy in the office
With his Jheri curl
And his hands super soft like a teenage girl
F*ck social media and them long hashtags
With your bitch made album
Cover lookin' like a, heh
Yeah, I said the word "f*ck" in
A song on the charts
Prolly breakin' beta male achy breaky hearts
With their mocha lattes and
Sparkly blue scarfs
Sittin' in the room tryna
F*ckin' talk like us
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it
So by now, you probably figured it out
Mainstream pissed me off and made
Me have a dirty mouth but on the flip side
Here's a little known fact
I was born in Music City, still get no slack
I got country songs tippin' a hundred million
Get played at every mud park across Dixie
Not to mention female singers wanna
Come and frisk me
Especially when we're stoned in my F-150
If country music was a rooster
You prolly wouldn't know it don't lay eggs
If country music was a set of game cock gaffs
You'd prolly get stabbed in the hand
If country music was baby
Chickens in the thicket
Would you have corn dust
Covered on your britches?
I am to country like rooster feed to a bucket
Just cluckin', tellin' y'all f*ck it
This part of the song is called the bridge
And I'm 'bout to burn it down
And make aware these sissy-ass big wigs
Can stop f*ckin' up my hometown
And I don't wanna hear that
We ain't good enough
Or the radio ain't got room
Bitch, I get the same spins
On my Spotify list
As your newest and hottest do
'Cause if country music was a rooster
I'd prolly be a big Cuban dong
If country music was a six
Cock derby in Kentucky
Be the last one standin' tall
If country music was a walk string and barrel
I'd break loose and strut the yard
'Cause we are to country like
Rooster feed to a bucket
And we like songs that say f*ck it
Yeah, f*ck it, woo