Guns n' booze, guns n' booze
Whatever could go wrong with guns n' booze
Guns n' booze, guns n' booze
Whatever could go wrong with guns n' booze
I got a bottle of Scotch and a box of shells
Point it at that bitch's head and she shuts up so well
You'll only pry this gun from my cold dead hand
I'm a whiskey drinking cowboy you bet
Got a pick-up truck and I'm raising hell
A ten gallon hat and my name stamped in my belt
I got some pointy boots made from fine snakeskin
I'll kick you in the asshole my friend