[Beat drops heavy, steady country-fried trap rhythm, acoustic guitar riff mixed with a filthy, sub-splitting 808 bass] [Verse 1] I tell ya hwat, step back from the curb, Your lack of lawn care is frankly absurd. You got crabgrass creeping, your edging is weak, I’m checking your gutters, they’re springing a leak! I’m a reasonable man, but you pushing your luck, With a generic spark plug inside of your truck. I use genuine parts, got the warranty card, Don't bring that low-effort trash in my yard. I’m the master of measuring, cutting it twice, Providing the block with exceptional advice. You think you can grill? Son, you underprepared, I look at your charcoal and get deeply scared. (Bwaaah!) [Chorus] Taste the meat, not the heat, keep the regulator clean, Finest clean-burning fuel that you ever have seen. If you’re using the charcoal, you out of your class, Lord entirely knows it’s a bastard gas! I tell ya hwat, keep the property neat, We standing in the alley, Alamo at our feet. [Verse 2] Now dammit, Dale, put down the tobacco, You talking 'bout aliens, sounding like a crackpot. And Bill, stand up straight, wipe the grease off your shirt, Boomhauer, talk slower, your pacing is hurt. That boy Bobby ain't right, got a prop in his hand, He wants to do comedy, I don’t understand! Go study your safety, go look at the manual, My dedication to service is strictly perennial. I got a narrow urethra but my focus is wide, Got the silver-plated tongs with a Texan's true pride. So turn down the volume, put the tools in the shed, Or I’m gonna kick your ass until your face is bright red. [Outro] [Sound of an Alamo beer can clicking open] Yep. Yep. Mm-hmm. Yep. Sweet lady propane. [Fade out on a heavy bass rattle]
