Lyrics

Well they called him Aaron Case, from a nowhere Mississippi town
Had that hair you couldn’t name, strawberry blonde with a ginger crown
Grew up Gap-fit clean, polos sharp and jeans sagged.

He don’t do small talk, nah he’d rather beat his meat alone
Got a box of chicken, and a mind that likes to roam
Big on curves and tiny frames, yeah his taste don’t fit no mold

High school came and left him, got a little strange with time
Started talkin’ to the mirror, swore his jokes could make it rhyme
Ain’t no introvert exactly, just allergic to your catchin’ up
He’ll vanish mid-convo, then reappear with a red Solo cup

Laughs like a sinner at confession, with a grin that steals the show
Aaron Case, walkin’ sideways, where the Mississippi winds blow

So if you see him smilin’, just let that boy be
He ain’t lookin’ for no answers, just a plate and a good set of… company
Aaron Case, weird-haired ace, a legend down this line
Just a Mississippi white boy, with fried chicken on his mind