Morgan Wallen

Her daddy's truck, her daddy's bottle
Open top, open throttle
Eighty-seven on a eighty-proof
Running through my lanes
I'm drunk on speed, drunk on whiskey
Aingt no free quite like sixteen
Still had half a foot to grow
Making grown man mistakes
Putting iron hearts to shame

Up in my head, I was in first
Whole pack of cars on that fourth run
Burning towards the checkered flag
I was on a record lap
Had my hand wrapped around that drink
Till that truck wrapped around that tree
Should have gone to Heaven fast
Learned a hard learned lesson that
We all get more second chances than we should
And number three and number seven don't add up to much good

Flashing lights, flashing memories
'Fore my eyes, torn up bench seat
Picking glass out of my right arm
Made of never let you forget kinda scarred
I lost that race when I let it start, but

Up in my head, I was in first
Whole pack of cars on that fourth run
Burning towards the checkered flag
I was on a record lap
Had my hand wrapped around that drink
Till that truck wrapped around that tree
Should have gone to Heaven fast
Learned a hard learned lesson that
We all get more second chances than we should
And number three and number seven don't add up to much good, no

Her daddy's truck, her daddy's bottle
Open top, open throttle

Up in my head, I was in first
Whole pack of cars on that fourth run
Burning towards the checkered flag
I was on a record lap (I was on a record lap)
Had my hand wrapped around that drink
Till that truck wrapped around that tree
Should have gone to Heaven fast (should have gone to Heaven)
Learned a hard learned lesson that
We all get more second chances than we should (yes, we do)
And number three and number seven don't add up to much good
Don't add up to much good (don't add up to much good, no)