(Instrumental start)

You hit a driver in the rough
It didn't fade enough; a bad sign
Your ball is buried and your line is blocked by the trees
The wind is blowing at you over the pines
Looks like you're probably gonna bogey this thing

You need a hook here but you've got no room for your backswing
And you're praying that your shot won't go out of bounds
The competition knows that you're really pressing
You miss this shot and it ruins your round
You'll miss the cut
You'll miss the cut
Then leave town

You check out Tiger Woods, he's got all the goods
He's so disciplined; just can't be distracted by anything
He's got a five-stroke lead; he's playing as he should
He's probably gonna take another Master's Ring.

John Daly doesn't like it when he doesn't make the cut
He used to stay out drinking the whole night
They say he used to drink almost anything
Say he got wasted every freaking night
Now they're insultin'
Think they're insultin' my swing

Now some folks in the crowd are starting to howl "you're a goner"
Dressed like assholes in their golf clothes and those cleated golf soles
And when they get rude we can't tell them to get screwed
We'd get fined by the PGA
They are insultin'
Yes, they're insultin', for real
(For Real )

(Instrumental break)

Then the sponsor starts to talk to the sports writer's
Wow, I can't believe what I just heard
He called my swing "the worst he'd ever seen"
Someday I'm really gonna get that turd
'Cause he's insultin'
Yes, he's insultin' my swing

(Instrumentals to end)