Think 'bout a place that's hot as hell
'Bout drier than the bottom of a dried-out well
And I think ya know what Texas means to me
Ain't got no money, ain't got no jobs
The banks are all too poor to rob
And I'd like to say one thing 'fore I leave
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck your Lone Star Beer.
Fuck that fucking Alamo, and fuckin' long-horned steer.
Fuck every Dallas cowboy, that ever draw'd a breath
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck you plumb to death!
I work'd my fingers to the bone
But I knowed I wrote some pretty good songs
'Til I drew the wrath of the Texas LCB
They jerked my tunes off the honky-tonk
With a bullshit list of 'do's and 'don't's
They lock'd 'em up, and throw'd away the key.
Well, fuck you, Texas, and fuck your Lone Star Beer.
Fuck that fucking Alamo, and fuckin' long-horned steer.
Fuck every Dallas cowboy, that ever draw'd a breath
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck you plumb to death!
Well, I'm headed for the border line
Anyplace else'll be just fine
As long as there's a job and a decent place to sleep
Get up each mornin' with my ass-a-flexin'
And give birth to yet another Texan
And write a song as he slips between my cheeks!
So, fuck you, Texas, and fuck your Lone Star Beer.
Fuck that fucking Alamo, and fuckin' long-horned steer.
Fuck every Dallas cowboy, that ever draw'd a breath
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck you plumb to death!
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck your Lone Star Beer.
Fuck that fucking Alamo, and fuckin' long-horned steer.
Fuck every Dallas cowboy, that ever draw'd a breath
Fuck you, Texas, and fuck you plumb to death!