Let’s Drive.

Revealer

Who Are You Now

Since moving back,  my o’l buddy Tim suggested that I play some Bro Country,,,   so that I “can get gigs round here”.    I wrote a song instead, and sent it to him.   I meant to record this as full-on “Bro Country”,  but couldn’t stand listening to that shit long enough to mimic the melodies (and, I don’t have “AutoTune”).    Instead,  I cranked the mic pre, and chicken picked a riff into an amp running hot.    It’s based on a drunken anthem from years ago, some minor criminal charges, and terrible Pop Country cliches:

LET’S BRAKE SOME SHIT!!   

Spent the day,             work’n on the home
That old front door’s,  gotten tired and worn
Bought one on sale,     bout an inch too wide. 
36” door,                       rough frame 35
Ain’t nuttin Honey,        my sledge can’t fix.
Girl grab that thang,    Let’s Brake Some Shit!

(( You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car rode hard,         an put away wet.
When going gets tough,    ya take what you can get.
We gettin Stupid tonight,   Let’s Brake Some Shit! ))

Me and the boys,   in my crew cab truck
Bottle of Jack,      an girls on the lap.
Luke Bryan,           play’n on the radio.
Need a beer here man,  high five bro!
Make a little more room, Tim’s girl’s gotta fit. 
Gonna tear it up right ya’ll,       Let’s Brake Some Shit!
 
(( Chorus))

Pulled up to da club,       bout half past 9
Old man on stage,      singing  “Walk The Line”
So we cranked Aldean,    loud as it could go
An broke that  JukeBox, volume control.
Girls shak’n that thang,  like a daisy duke party
Singing tailgate songs,    an shootin Bacardi
Old man from the band,  said “y’all got to go”
So Tim swung a bottle,   an laid him on the floor.
(Chorus)
(( You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car rode hard,       an put away wet.
When the beer’s bout done, but ya don’t wanna quit.
Tear that shit up!        LET'S BRAKE SOME SHIT!!!))

Now Tim’s do’n time,    in the county jail
Today  I got a letter,    in the U.S. Mail
Sayin “help me please,  I need to get out”
Cell mate say,  he gotta real purdy mouth.
“He’s built like a house,     made out a brick
look’n like he’s ready to,  BRAKE SOME SHIT!”
   (Chorus)
You gotta use a little muscle, When the shoe don’t fit
Rental car drove hard,        an put away wet.
When the go’n gets tough,  ya take what you git.
Girl,       you know,          He gonna Brake Some Shit!

Dear Bro Ham,
You’re like a gangsta now,     just do yer time
Lil Wayne went to jail,   an he turned out fine.
P.S.    I paid your tab,         so don’t forget

Let’s Drive.

Greg Cleemput

Related tracks