His Name Is Banger

He was standing in the shadows in front of the projects behind the Save-A-Lot,
tryin’ to think of a way to get with
this girl and smokin’ some gas station pot…
Those projects didn’t lend him any kind of chance he knew
A trash dumpster, a busted streetlight, and an old junk car
was blocking her view
Ain’t no muse in all that racket, ain’t no hush and ain’t no ease
As she ran over the curb she slammed on the brakes
There he was with his “I’m a local legend” shirt looking pretty baked…
He jumped back throwing his pot down in case it was a raid…
“Nah…” he thought… “it’s the girl on Facebook,
swearin’ she wasn’t tryin’ to get laid.”
He gave her that crooked grin and thought to himself,
“Nah… I got this…”
And he said:
My name is Banger
I play play a 6 stringer
And I’m a pretty good sanger
And if you are thinking about getting laid, I’m the one for you.
She knew she was in trouble but she couldn’t break her own rule
But that crooked ass smile and the way he tried to appear shy
She grinned back at him and he knew she had lied…
she didn’t come out at 3 AM for shitty weed
she definitely was trying to get laid…
He didn’t quite believe it… but he grinned again and let it play
Didn’t say his name, just kept on pickin’ like the night was his to claim
Strummin’ on that 6 string like he already had the game
His name was Banger
And he plays his 6 stringer
He’s a damn good singer…
Southern boy with a crooked grin, talkin’ sweet and talkin’ shit
Said he wasn’t lookin’ for a one-nighter — yeah, ok… cool…
and why do they call you Banger?
His name was Banger
And he liked to play his 6 stringer
He’s a pretty good singer…
He knew it when he seen her…
he handed her a lighter, casual and cool
Told her he really wasn’t lookin’ for a one-nighter — played it like she was a fool
She didn’t believe a word of that, not even for a minute
He’s a musician, baby, she has heard that song and she ain’t dancin’ in it
They stood there together smokin’ gas station weed in a one hitter
like innocence was somethin’ he could spin on her
And she thought, well ain’t this somethin’,
A guy with a guitar, and a story that she already knew…
Reality set in she was probably trying to get laid…
His name was Banger
And he liked to play his 6 stringer
He’s a damn good singer
Southern boy with a crooked grin, talkin’ sweet and talkin’ shit
Said he wasn’t lookin’ for a one-nighter — yeah, right,
His name was Banger
And he liked to play his 6 stringer
He’s a pretty good singer.
the chickens across the road started carryin’ on
Sounded like they was singin’ it,
Bang, bang, bangerrrrr…
bang, bang, bangerrrr
Even the hens knew his name,
The local legend had good foul game
His name was Banger
And he liked to play his 6 stringer
A damn good singer
ain’t no peace in the valley tonight a girl tryin to get laid and some chickens singin his name …
And a good looking southern boy, and his 6 string