Lyrics

I ride my jet with a goat on my chest,
Drunker than hell and overdressed.
Got F-16's twistin' like a stripper in pain,
And I just pissed freedom in the Ukraine.

Shepherd's on comms, bored outta his mind,
While I fly so low I spank cows from behind.
Pulled six G’s while eatin’ beef stew,
Yelled "Fox Three!" and blew your whole damn crew.

We’re the Goatherders, Seven-Ten pride,
Flying war hard with dicks oversize.
F-18’s hump the troposphere raw,
While I bomb your mom’s house without a flaw.
We don’t ask why — we just drop sh*t,
Then write our names in clouds with a sweaty pit.

I once bombed a convoy while scratchin' my sack,
And landed with nachos stuck in the crack.
F-16’s got missiles, I got style,
And both of 'em fire every goddamn mile.

We prank-call targets, then light ‘em up,
Deliver JDAMs with a Taco Bell cup.
I once shot a SAM with my middle toe,
Then flipped off a drone mid-vertigo.

Cue the violins, scream like goats,
We orchestrate war while takin’ notes.
Shepherd's chillin', drinkin’ warm Coke,
While I fly inverted and crack a joke.

We’re the Goatherders, the sky’s worst dream,
More fuel in our blood than self-esteem.
F-18’s dry hump lightning bolts,
F-16’s airstrike with stripper jolts.
We don’t bring peace, we bring regret,
And a trail of smoke shaped like a cigarette.

So next time you hear a sonic boom,
It ain’t thunder — it’s your goat’s doom.
We don’t fight fair, we don’t fly straight,
We just fuck the sky and detonate.