Well, I gotta go, down the road
Outta my way, Pigf*ckers,it's getting old
I'm leavin town, anywhere bound
Call my name, I won't be found.
With your Wal-Mart gossip, and country-fried philosophy, toothless witticisms abut farm machinery
Just a greasy ham stuffed with high-school football scores, I'm hittin' the road, mister, I cant take it anymore.
Jacked-up high-school jarheads tradin' licks at the Dairy Queen.
Line-dancing silicon bimbos trying to be seen.
A thousand well-placed hand grenades in the local mall, my little way of sayin' "Goodbye to all y'all!"
Well, anyone can see, it's been home to better than me, so I guess I'd better watch what I say. But what am I supposed to do, the one thing I know is true: the only time I like it is when I'm far away
Nine Pound Hammer - Outta The Way Pigf*ckers Lyrics
Nine Pound Hammer - Outta The Way Pigf*ckers Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Well, I gotta go, down the road
Outta my way, Pigf*ckers,it's getting old
I'm leavin town, anywhere bound
Call my name, I won't be found.
With your Wal-Mart gossip, and country-fried philosophy, toothless witticisms abut farm machinery
Just a greasy ham stuffed with high-school football scores, I'm hittin' the road, mister, I cant take it anymore.
Jacked-up high-school jarheads tradin' licks at the Dairy Queen.
Line-dancing silicon bimbos trying to be seen.
A thousand well-placed hand grenades in the local mall, my little way of sayin' "Goodbye to all y'all!"
Well, anyone can see, it's been home to better than me, so I guess I'd better watch what I say. But what am I supposed to do, the one thing I know is true: the only time I like it is when I'm far away
Outta my way, Pigf*ckers,it's getting old
I'm leavin town, anywhere bound
Call my name, I won't be found.
With your Wal-Mart gossip, and country-fried philosophy, toothless witticisms abut farm machinery
Just a greasy ham stuffed with high-school football scores, I'm hittin' the road, mister, I cant take it anymore.
Jacked-up high-school jarheads tradin' licks at the Dairy Queen.
Line-dancing silicon bimbos trying to be seen.
A thousand well-placed hand grenades in the local mall, my little way of sayin' "Goodbye to all y'all!"
Well, anyone can see, it's been home to better than me, so I guess I'd better watch what I say. But what am I supposed to do, the one thing I know is true: the only time I like it is when I'm far away