I'd rather be seven beers deep

With a Coleman cooler propping up my feet

My ass in a lawn chair, floating on the breeze

In a Sun Tracker

I'd rather be tucked in a pit blind

Somewhere on the Mississippi-Louisiana state line

Waiting on them green-heads to do a fly-by

Lip full of tobacco

When I hear you bitch at me

It makes me think of all the

Places I'd rather be

I'd rather be stripping off shingles

On a July roof down in Tishomingo

Working like a dog, living in a single-wide

Yes, I would

I'd rather be stuck at your mama's

Watching midday reruns of her favorite dramas

Wearing my pajamas, nеck-deep in Days of our Lives

When I hear you bitch at mе

It makes me think of all the

Places I'd rather be

Yeah, all the places I'd rather be

Oh, let me hear it, how I leave my clothes on the floor

Track dirt through the door and don't bother cleaning up

Let me hear 'bout the guy you wish I was

When I hear you bitch at me

It makes me think of all the

Places I'd rather be

When I hear you bitch at me

It makes me think of all the

Places I'd rather be

There's a lotta places I'd rather be