Paroles de 'More Middle Fingers (feat. Brantley Gilbert)' par Justin Moore

This one's for the IRS
In bed with the damn politicians
And this one's for the boss, the hoss
Who wouldn't let you off to go fishin'
And to the bulls and the bears on Wall Street
Takin' you and me to the cleaner's
Man it's stuff like that that makes me wish
I had more middle fingers

Let 'em fly in the sky, get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there
I could use a few for the dude in the suit
Who cut me off in his brand new Beamer
Man, it's stuff like that
That made me wish I had more middle fingers

Hey, gimme one for the haters of The Son
Yeah, the one in the hippie sandals
Yeah, and how 'bout one for the lack
Of respect for Mr. Jack and Charlie Daniels
If you don't like the troops and the red
White, and blue collar cold beer drinkers
Well, it's folks like that
That make me wish I had more middle fingers

Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there
I could use a few for the dude in the suit
Who cut me off in his brand new Beamer
Man, it's stuff like that
That made me wish I had more middle fingers

If you hate this song
And you think it's wrong, for what it's worth
My crowd'd be proud to turn you up a little Free Bird

Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a shit
Like your mama ain't there
Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there

I could use a few for the fat cats
Blowin' the roof off the bullshit meter
Man, it's stuff like that that makes me wish
I had more middle fingers
Yeah, it's stuff like that that makes me wish
I had more middle fingers
More middle fingers