Lyrics

Well I’ve been workin’ 7 days, no damn rest,
Tryna scrape the cash for that boat motor mess.
But Austin’s rollin’ in at ten past noon,
In a squatted Cummins lit up like a damn cartoon.

Neon glow like a strip club floor,
Truck so low he can’t shut the door.
Looks like he’s cruisin’ Myrtle Beach in May,
While I’m bustin’ my ass every damn day.

[Chorus]
Lazy-ass Austin, where the hell you been?
Ain’t seen a hammer in your callus-free hands.
While your wife’s beggin’ for a roof and some stone,
You’re out polishin’ chrome on that junkyard throne.
Got a gay pontoon with Greg Conger ridin’ —
We all know it, but y’all keep hidin’.
Boardwalk cowboy, get your head out the sand,
We buildin’ dreams while you just play pretend.

[Verse 2]
He talks a big game, says he’s got big plans,
But can’t pour concrete or use his own hands.
Says, “Next weekend I’ll start that porch, babe.”
But we all know it’s another beer he’ll crave.

Claims he’s country but he won’t lift a brick,
Pontoon vibes lookin’ mighty slick.
Ain’t no shame in floatin’, but the way you dress,
Looks like a pride parade in a camo vest.

[Chorus]
Lazy-ass Austin, your excuses are old,
While your shingles rot and your floor grows mold.
That Cummins is loud, but your work’s gone mute,
Only thing you lift’s a vape and your boot.
Out with Greg, holdin’ hands on the lake,
Puttin’ on a show for Instagram’s sake.
We ain’t judgin’ who you take on that float —
But your wife’s home beggin’ for a damn new coat.

[Bridge]
I’m haulin’ rebar, pourin’ sweat in the sun,
While you’re postin’ TikToks and callin’ it “fun.”
When the job gets hard, you’re nowhere near,
But you’ll sure show up when there’s free beer.

[Final Chorus]
Lazy-ass Austin, hope you hear this song,
Real men build while you play along.
You’re the king of the strip in your LED ride,
But out here, son, we work for pride.
So fix your roof, pour that porch too,
And quit makin’ us all do the work for you.
Or just keep floatin’ with ol’ Greg Conger —
We’ll be stackin’ checks while your days get longer.

[Outro]
Yeah, I’ll be workin’ ‘til my knuckles bleed,
You’ll be flexin’ that squat that nobody needs.
Ain’t nothin’ outlaw ‘bout a man who’s fake —
So giddy up, Austin… for everyone’s sake