Southern Comfort Lyrics - Disgraceland - The Orwells

Drink by drink, I think, I'm thinkin' 

Why not train with me this week-end? 

And I can't walk and I can't dance 

Give me a smile and then take off your pants 

Saw her eyes in the rear-view mirror 

Girls in the back, trunks full of beer 

Eyes on the prize, eyes on the prize 

I'm not that open, I'm gettin' really wise 

Coke and rum, can I taste your tongue? 

Won't stop sipping till we're both numb 

Lose that dirt and the short black skirt 

Why the lip gloss and the tight white shirt? 

Hand down my pants, hands on my grass 

Got to the bottom of the bottom, but I still can't dance 

Like this brother with the hand full of ass 

Bad ass shades and a bag full of grass