Your windshield won't be busted

Your stuff won't be in the yard

If our love kicks the bucket

I won't tear your life apart

Won't bonfire all your money

Won't snap your fishing poles

But don't get me wrong here, honey

I won't just let it go

Oh-oh-oh

My kind of karma's just a call back home away

And that's a call his little girl don't wanna make

'Cause, boy, my old man, he's a son of a gun

That glass on the table ain't what he'll empty

If you walk away, honey, you better run

'Cause Daddy shoots straight, and I don't mean whiskey

He's got that single barrel

In his hand out on the porch

No, I ain't talking Maker's

I'm talking meeting yours

Oh-oh-oh

My kind of karma's just a call back home away

And that's a call his little girl don't wanna make

'Causе, boy, my old man, he's a son of a gun

That glass on the table ain't what hе'll empty

If you walk away, honey, you better run

'Cause Daddy shoots straight, and I don't mean whiskey

Says what he means

Means what he says

If you stab me in the back

Gon' be crosshairs on your chest

Save all of them sorrys

You can take them to the grave

'Cause Daddy shoots straight

Yeah, Daddy shoots straight

'Cause, boy, my old man, he's a son of a gun

That glass on the table ain't what he'll empty

If you walk away, honey, you better run

'Cause Daddy shoots straight, and I don't mean whiskey