J.R. Ward "Don't Juice Bar Me Bro."
Song written by myself and Jason Finnell, inspired by Clay Travis and the TN football coaching search.
Lyrics:
Coach Jones was worried that your pee was clear, he said drink water..no booze, no beer. But his record called for a much stronger drink, and even ole smokey thought this guy stinks. As ole Lyle was sipping his Kale, volnation went further and further into hell.
chorus:
Well, don't juice bar me bro, don't juice bar me bro, I remember the good times and just can't let go. They offered Gundy 7.2 (million) but he don't trust Currie and neither should you
Shiano was a Gone-Oh before he got here, Cause he didn't win but a few games a year. He'd chop your knees if you tried to win, He couldn't accept when it was the end. Espn said that dude was great, because he lost 67 and he won 68. Now that we drug' his name through the mud, the whole country is out for blood.
The Haslams ain't steering this ship too well, Just like the Browns we're livin' in hell, We should've called Lane or Tee from the start, but our chances now smell like a gas station fart. They gonna hire Butch Jones part 2, then get rid of the rock and what can we do? We will soak our sorrows with corn from a jar, and cuss Butch Jones and that ole Juice Bar.
Lyrics:
Coach Jones was worried that your pee was clear, he said drink water..no booze, no beer. But his record called for a much stronger drink, and even ole smokey thought this guy stinks. As ole Lyle was sipping his Kale, volnation went further and further into hell.
chorus:
Well, don't juice bar me bro, don't juice bar me bro, I remember the good times and just can't let go. They offered Gundy 7.2 (million) but he don't trust Currie and neither should you
Shiano was a Gone-Oh before he got here, Cause he didn't win but a few games a year. He'd chop your knees if you tried to win, He couldn't accept when it was the end. Espn said that dude was great, because he lost 67 and he won 68. Now that we drug' his name through the mud, the whole country is out for blood.
The Haslams ain't steering this ship too well, Just like the Browns we're livin' in hell, We should've called Lane or Tee from the start, but our chances now smell like a gas station fart. They gonna hire Butch Jones part 2, then get rid of the rock and what can we do? We will soak our sorrows with corn from a jar, and cuss Butch Jones and that ole Juice Bar.
Category
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Music