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Lyrical Analysis of...
Arlen - Hank Hill
- Now everybody gather ‘round for the wisdom of Hank R. Hill,
- This is King of the Hill,
- King of propane and I meant it, my point intended is real,
- Fix your lenses, forensics woulda told ya Hank had built it,
- Pretend it's a hardware store and the masses upon us,
- And I mastered being the master at sellin’ propane, honest!
- And the chapter that read at 25 I’d be grillin’ outside,
- Like 5 in the morning, with Bobby just ruining the vibe,
- And if they take everything, well, I got…
- Arlen, Arlen, ain't no town quite like mine.
- Aye, Dale, what’s happenin’ with it, ya weirdo?
- Still I’m at it, load the truck up, haul propane automatic,
- Still I’m laughin’ at them critics talkin’, boy I hear ‘em gaggin’,
- When I’m back in the back of my alley, crackin’ a six pack,
- With Boomhauer ramblin’ ‘bout somethin’ I can’t understand,
- It’s the grillin’ cap’, and I’m captain at servin’ up steaks and slacks,
- It’s a wrap when I’m done and I come a long way from a narrow urethra,
- To a king sized throne by the grill, son, I’m from…
- Arlen, Arlen, ain't no town quite like mine.
- So come and visit, the tires rollin’, John Redcorn patrollin’,
- Won’t you spend a weekend with Bill Dauterive, man?
- Khakis creasin’, propane heatin’, that’s the game plan,
- Hank Hill Conan, man, where’s my dang mower at?
- Hand on the tongs and swore that,
- I do it big as Buck Strickland for them cookouts,
- Kama Sutra? No sir, I’d rather sit in my lounger,
- Sippin’ Alamo Beer, watchin’ the Cowboys play on a Sunday,
- I don’t mess with charcoal, boy that stuff is a disgrace,
- Tryin’ to stay grounded like four flats,
- But I know that Bobby’s rap dreams will put me in relapse,
- Dancin’ in my den, talkin’ ‘bout he wanna be Yeehaw,
- Hop in the truck, boy we headin’ straight to the Megalo Mart,
- And that’s a given,
- I pass the torch then pass the spatula, propane’s my decision,
- I crash the mower then you report that you see me in F 150s,
- I must report that we import the best damn grills in Texas,
- You bought it, now talk about it while propane fills your brisket,
- I blow up every time I load up a tank,
- Depending on what you expectin’, it’s clean energy in the bank,
- Perfected by a man who sells grills for a livin’,
- Arlen, Arlen, ain't no town quite like mine.
- So tell that charcoal user step aside,
- Roll it up in a blunt—wait, what in the hell?
- Boy, that ain’t right.
- I did exactly what I wanted,
- That’s why them Strickland checks fly in my direction,
- You never questioned when I said I
- Would be a propane mogul before I visit ol’ Buck in the sky,
- Eazy and Aaliyah, if I see ya, we gon’ test drive,
- A dang ol’ Lambo’ in Heaven, but for now, I’m on the front drive,
- Riding back to my town ‘cause I’ll forever stand by…
- Arlen, Arlen, ain't no town quite like mine.
- Now we can all celebrate,
- We can all appreciate a good steak cooked the Hank Hill way,
- America needs more clean fuel and fewer gimmicks today,
- Harsh realities we in made my propane translate,
- To the tailgates, the backyard chefs, and the broke folks that pray,
- For a well done burger without lighter fluid in the taste,
- So light that grill, crack that beer, ten pounds of brisket, yessir,
- This was brought to you by Strickland,
- Now every motherf—uh, every dang neighbor in here say:
- "Look who's responsible
- For takin’ propane international, I make ‘em holler!"
- Ayo, Bobby, good lookin’, son…
- Ain't no town quite like mine, yup.
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