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