Lyrics

Hook:
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island,
Too many fuckin’ sirens, too many assholes wildin’,
Can’t ride no fuckin’ horse when the streets keep pilin’,
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island.

Verse 1:
Tried to lasso a cab, driver yelled, “Get the fuck out!”
This ain’t the Wild West, just concrete and clout.
Your boots get scuffed, your hat gets swiped,
Try ropin’ shit here, and you’ll get your ass hyped.

Pre-Chorus:
Spurs don’t mean shit on a crowded-ass train,
You’d get stomped, cussed out, left in pain.
Rodeos here? Only fuckin’ block fights,
No “Yee-haw”s, just car horns and endless street lights.

Hook:
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island,
Too many fuckin’ sirens, too many assholes wildin’,
Can’t ride no fuckin’ horse when the streets keep pilin’,
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island.

Verse 2:
Ten-gallon hats? They’d get ripped to shreds,
Boots in the club? Nah, you’ll catch sideways heads.
Wanna line dance? Fuck that, they twerk and grind,
And that horse you rode? Left in traffic, fined.

Pre-Chorus:
Cowhide vests swapped for puffy-ass jackets,
The only ropin’ here is subway racket.
Saddles? Fuck no, it’s bikes and scooters,
“Howdy, partner?” Sounds dumb as fuck to commuters.

Hook:
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island,
Too many fuckin’ sirens, too many assholes wildin’,
Can’t ride no fuckin’ horse when the streets keep pilin’,
Cowboys and cowgirls don’t live in Brooklyn or Long Island.

Outro:
So if you think you’re tough, bringin’ that Western flair,
BK’ll chew you up and leave you gaspin’ for air.
Take your hats, your boots, and ride on out,
‘Cause in this city, cowboy shit don’t amount to a shout.