Biscuit House

Run, run, run

You're riding on

Can't catch you if they try

Last seen at

The social club

Under the cross of the southern sky

Win, win, win

For you are the King

Of nothing but a chest of lies, I told ya

You ain't no gun slinger, baby

You're a hipster eating gravy off a biscuit, in a Nashville house

You ain't no four leaf clover

You're a wannabe drover, making jokes on your way down south

On your way down south

You roll on in

With ego to the brim

Like you been here for years

I get you gotta fake it

Keep going till you make it

But I wish you could make that call

For you sing, sing, sing

But you're not the one no, you're not the one at all, I told ya

You ain't no gun slinger, baby

You're a hipster eating gravy off a biscuit, in a Nashville house

You ain't no four leaf clover

You're a wannabe drover, making jokes on your way down south

On your way down south

On your way down south

You ain't no gun slinger, baby

You're a hipster eating gravy off a biscuit, in a Nashville house

You ain't no four leaf clover

You're a wannabe drover, making jokes on your way down south

You ain't no gun slinger, baby

You're a hipster eating gravy off a biscuit, in a Nashville house

You ain't no four leaf clover

You're a wannabe drover, making jokes on your way down south

On your way down south

On your way down south

On your way down

On your way down south

On your way down

On your way down