Mr. Record Label

Mr. Record Label got a really fast car
And he drives into Hollywood, parallel parks
And he knows when he hears a hit, and he couldn't write for shit
But there's a plaque with his name on it, ah
Oh, oh
Says I need him
Says I need him, uh
Oh
But I'm paying his rent
If Mr. Record Label went and crashed his car
All the angry little kids will still be playing guitars and
All the moms will still get drunk front row at Brooks and Dunn
And some ginger kid from London would still go number one
Whoa-oh
Says I need him
Says I need him
Oh
But I'm paying his rent
Infinity pool
Private school
Grapes off the vine, the rib is prime
Must be nice to live inside of your head
Live inside of your head
Yeah, I'm paying your rent
Premium fuel
New BBQ
Gucci slides, copyrights
Must be nice on your side of the bed
On your side of the bed
Just make it make sense
Oh, oh
Says I need him
Says I need him, uh
Oh
But I'm paying his rent