Justin Moore, Brantley Gilbert - More Middle Fingers lyrics

What's going on brotha?
Why don't we stop being politically correct
Just, on this one just be correct

This one's for the IRS
In bed with the damn politicians
And this one's for the boss, the hoss
Who wouldn't let you off to go fishin'
And to the bulls and the
Bears on Wall Street
Takin' you and me to the cleaner's
Man it's stuff like that that makes me
Wish I had more middle fingers

Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there
I could use a few for the dude in the suit
Who cut me off in his brand new Beamer
Man, it's stuff like that that made me
Wish I had more middle fingers
Hey, gimme one for the haters
Of The Son, yeah
The one in the hippie sandals
Yeah, and how 'bout one for the lack of
Respect for Mr jack and Charlie Daniels
If you don't like the troops
And the red, white
And blue collar cold beer drinkers
Well, it's folks like that that make me
Wish I had more middle fingers

Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there
I could use a few for the dude in the suit
Who cut me off in his brand new Beamer
Man, it's stuff like that that made me
Wish I had more middle fingers

If you hate this song and
You think it's wrong, for what it's worth
My crowd'd be proud to turn you
Up a little Free Bird

Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a shit
Like your mama ain't there
Let 'em fly in the sky
Get 'em all up high in the air
Let 'em flip like you don't give a rip
Like your mama ain't there
I could use a few for the fat cats
Blowin' the roof off the bullshit meter
Man, it's stuff like that that makes me
Wish I had more middle fingers
Yeah, it's stuff like that that makes me
Wish I had more middle fingers
More middle fingers