Lyrics

Now gather ‘round, y’all, lemme tell you a tale…
’Bout a crusty-ass fella who rides dirty, drinks early,
And shits himself daily like it’s some kinda ritual.”

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[Verse 1]
Sassy Silas—ain’t no man,
More like a moldy-ass garbage can.
Smells like cow shit, stale Busch Light,
Wore the same drawers for three damn nights.

Clocked in late with a goat on a leash,
Swear to God it winked and called him “daddy” in Greek.
Passed out at lunch, droolin’ in the fry bin,
Woke up once just to shit himself again.

Got a Honda Ridgeline full of dents and flies,
Claims it’s “tactical,” but it barely drives.
Hit three mailboxes, one stop sign,
And a Taco Bell while tryin’ to FaceTime.

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[Hook]
Sassy! Sassy! Wastin’ space,
Mouth full of chaw and a piss-stained face.
Farts so loud they shake the floor,
Then blames the dog while he craps some more.
Sassy! Sassy! Can’t drive straight,
Smells like death and section eight.
Ain’t no myth, ain’t no joke,
He fucks goats and brags when he chokes.

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[Verse 2]
Lazy as hell, don’t lift no weight,
Sits on a bucket while we sweat and bake.
Had one job and still fucked it up,
Tried to fix a pipe—blew up the pump.

Got drunk last week on the foreman’s dime,
Woke up naked on the clock at nine.
Had a raccoon in his truck bed chillin’,
Called it “Jeff” and fed it penicillin.

He’s got a neck beard, patchy and thick,
Smells like ass and microwave fish.
Hiccups gin, burps regret,
Still ain’t paid off that DUI yet.

⸻

[Bridge – Spoken over beat, low and gritty]
“Man showed up to safety training with a goat,
a case of Busch, and no pants.
Told HR he was ‘livin’ his truth.’”

⸻

[Verse 3]
Hair like hay, teeth like corn,
Washed his balls last time he was born.
Hungover daily, drunk by noon,
Got kicked out of rehab for smellin’ like doom.

Shit himself on a ladder twice,
Still acts like he’s doin’ us all a delight.
Brags about bangin’ chicks in sheds,
But his favorite girl’s got four legs.

Calls himself country, but ain’t got skill,
Ain’t baited a hook or changed a drill.
Just naps, drinks, lies, and brags,
Then wrecks his truck and blames his “gag reflex.”

⸻

[Hook – Extended Version]
Sassy! Sassy! King of the slack,
Shit his pants in the welder shack.
Rides that Ridgeline like it’s a horse,
With a blow-up goat in the back, of course.

Sassy! Sassy! Burnin’ gas,
Blowin’ farts out his whole damn ass.
Thinks he’s slick, thinks he’s raw,
But got kicked outta jail for bangin’ a llama’s maw.

⸻

[Outro – Spoken, Echoed Slow Drawl]
So here’s to Silas, the man, the myth,
Who farts like thunder and smells like shit.
If lazy was a person, he’d be the Pope,
With a goat named Sheila and a dream full of dope.

Now punch that clock, but don’t punch him—
He’ll just nap again and blame it on wind. 💨🐐🥴