Toby Keith
Lyricist: Toby Keith Composer: Toby Keith
Tell it like it is...
He gets up real early on his mornin' drive
Down to the office for his 9 to 5
He drives a 94, 2 ton, economy car
Loves to tell the local bands down at the bar that he's The Critic
Yea, I can hook you up, I know everybody, in the business
He flunked junior high band he couldn't march in time
He tried to write a song once, he couldn't make it rhyme
He went two or three chords on a pawn shop guitar
He just never quite had what it took to be a star, so he's a critic
I work for the Gazette man...I got a real job
He did a 5-star column on a band he never heard
He did a bluegrass review about an unkind word
He thought it was time to ask his boss for a raise
His boss said I can't even tell if anybody's even readin' your page
Yeah...
So he thought...and he thought a little more
He caught a young hot star headin' into town
And then he hid behind his typewriter and gunned the boy down
Here come the letters, the e-mails, the faxes, they raised him to 20,000 dollars after taxes
He's a happy critic...
He's rollin' in the dough...
Man I could do this forever...this is easy. Everybody's readin' my column!
Please don't tell my mom, that I write the music column for the Gazette
She still thinks I play piano down at the Cathouse
Let's get funky with this now boys...Play it on out
Come on Shannon
There's ole Biff jumpin' in
Is layin' it down
Come on Shannon
Aww yea, my man Steve
Man my fingers are gettin tired...y'all gonna have to hurry
This snappin' thing... wearin' me out
Hello Shannon
Guess he's on coffee break man
They're gonna love you...cause they already love me
(Yeah!)
It's the Critic