Hand That Feeds You 550
folk, Upbeat Nashville folk stomp with male vocals; bright acoustic guitars and mandolin locked into a brisk 4-on-the-floor kick, upright bass walking hard. Verses keep a barroom two-step bounce with fiddle riffs answering vocal lines; choruses explode with gang shouts, claps, and boot-stomps on the downbeat. Short mandolin breaks between sections, mix leans into rowdy, singalong energy and crisp vocal storytelling., bright, male vocals, acoustic
WKJD 550·4:49
4:49
Hand That Feeds You 550
folk, Upbeat Nashville folk stomp with male vocals; bright acoustic guitars and mandolin locked into a brisk 4-on-the-floor kick, upright bass walking hard. Verses keep a barroom two-step bounce with fiddle riffs answering vocal lines; choruses explode with gang shouts, claps, and boot-stomps on the downbeat. Short mandolin breaks between sections, mix leans into rowdy, singalong energy and crisp vocal storytelling., bright, male vocals, acoustic
Creator: WKJD 550Release Date: April 16, 2026
Lyrics
[Intro]
[band tuning, crowd murmur]
Kick drum thumpin’ like a heart on speed
Boots on the board and a barn-floor creed
Fiddle finds a fire in a Friday groove
We’re gonna talk about some folks that just won’t move (hey!)
[Verse 1]
Saw a boy on the couch at half-past noon
Blinds pulled tight, TV buzzin’ in the room
Mama workin’ doubles just to keep that place
He’s scrollin’ past chances like it’s all a race
[Verse 2]
Got a fridge full of food from her busted-back pay
Got his phone in his hand but he throws the day away
Says the world’s gone mean, says the world’s not fair
But the trash piles up while he warms that chair
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, you can’t fool
A backbone test, it’s a simple rule
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made (hey!)
[Verse 3]
Met a man on the street with a sign in his hand
Healthy as a horse, talkin’ ‘bout “no chance”
Jobs on the window of the store behind his back
But he’d rather sell pity than punch that clock track
[Verse 4]
Says this country’s cold, says this country’s done
While he drains that bottle ‘til the setting sun
But a diesel truck rolls with a driver dead tired
Haulin’ his comfort, keepin’ lights wired
[Pre-Chorus]
They sit in the shade while the field hand sweats
Counting every favor like a stack of debts
Got a silver spoon, still they spit that shine
Then blame the cook when the gravy’s fine
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, same old tune
Howlin’ at the sun for the heat of noon
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[Verse 5]
There’s a flag on the porch they like to drag through mud
Talk big talk, but they’d never gave blood
For the neighbor next door or the kid down the street
Won’t stand for nothin’ but a front row seat
[Verse 6]
But the nurse pulls nights in a tired old wing
And the farmer bends low in the early spring
There’s a hand on a wrench, there’s a hand on a plow
Those are the hands keepin’ all this now
[Bridge]
You don’t have to be rich to give a damn
Just one good promise and a calloused hand
You don’t have to shout to prove you care
Just show up early and leave some sweat there (yeah!)
[Verse 7]
I’ve seen a barroom hero with a barstool crown
Braggin’ ‘bout his wisdom while he tears folks down
Calls this place broken, calls this place worse
But he never lifts a finger, only lifts that curse
[Verse 8]
He’ll drink that whiskey from a local still
Ride a county road somebody paved uphill
Trash that town with his wasted breath
Then blame the ground for his own two steps
[Pre-Chorus]
Well I’m tired of the talk and the crooked blame
Pointin’ at the mirror but they change the name
If the shoe fits tight and it hurts your pride
Maybe that’s a boot you oughta wear outside
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, same old tune
Howlin’ at the sun for the heat of noon
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[musical solo fade t end]
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[musical solo fade t end]
Yeah; they complained about the flames they made...
[fade to end]
the flames they made...
[end]
[band tuning, crowd murmur]
Kick drum thumpin’ like a heart on speed
Boots on the board and a barn-floor creed
Fiddle finds a fire in a Friday groove
We’re gonna talk about some folks that just won’t move (hey!)
[Verse 1]
Saw a boy on the couch at half-past noon
Blinds pulled tight, TV buzzin’ in the room
Mama workin’ doubles just to keep that place
He’s scrollin’ past chances like it’s all a race
[Verse 2]
Got a fridge full of food from her busted-back pay
Got his phone in his hand but he throws the day away
Says the world’s gone mean, says the world’s not fair
But the trash piles up while he warms that chair
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, you can’t fool
A backbone test, it’s a simple rule
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made (hey!)
[Verse 3]
Met a man on the street with a sign in his hand
Healthy as a horse, talkin’ ‘bout “no chance”
Jobs on the window of the store behind his back
But he’d rather sell pity than punch that clock track
[Verse 4]
Says this country’s cold, says this country’s done
While he drains that bottle ‘til the setting sun
But a diesel truck rolls with a driver dead tired
Haulin’ his comfort, keepin’ lights wired
[Pre-Chorus]
They sit in the shade while the field hand sweats
Counting every favor like a stack of debts
Got a silver spoon, still they spit that shine
Then blame the cook when the gravy’s fine
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, same old tune
Howlin’ at the sun for the heat of noon
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[Verse 5]
There’s a flag on the porch they like to drag through mud
Talk big talk, but they’d never gave blood
For the neighbor next door or the kid down the street
Won’t stand for nothin’ but a front row seat
[Verse 6]
But the nurse pulls nights in a tired old wing
And the farmer bends low in the early spring
There’s a hand on a wrench, there’s a hand on a plow
Those are the hands keepin’ all this now
[Bridge]
You don’t have to be rich to give a damn
Just one good promise and a calloused hand
You don’t have to shout to prove you care
Just show up early and leave some sweat there (yeah!)
[Verse 7]
I’ve seen a barroom hero with a barstool crown
Braggin’ ‘bout his wisdom while he tears folks down
Calls this place broken, calls this place worse
But he never lifts a finger, only lifts that curse
[Verse 8]
He’ll drink that whiskey from a local still
Ride a county road somebody paved uphill
Trash that town with his wasted breath
Then blame the ground for his own two steps
[Pre-Chorus]
Well I’m tired of the talk and the crooked blame
Pointin’ at the mirror but they change the name
If the shoe fits tight and it hurts your pride
Maybe that’s a boot you oughta wear outside
[Chorus]
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Cussin’ out the farmer while they eat his food
They bite the hand that feeds ‘em, then curse the way it tastes
Lit the match, then they’re cryin’ ‘bout the flames they made
Singin’ whoa, whoa, whoa, same old tune
Howlin’ at the sun for the heat of noon
Lazy, useless, ungrateful fools
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[musical solo fade t end]
Lit the match then complained about the flames they made
[musical solo fade t end]
Yeah; they complained about the flames they made...
[fade to end]
the flames they made...
[end]