| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
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| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
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| I’ma put it out here, let me tell y’all something
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| What do y’all think my still be pumpin'
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| 90 proof, spit the truth
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| Stop tellin' everybody you can do what I do
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| So if you can, you better get like me
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| Go sit down and write a hit like me
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| From where I stand you ain’t shit to me
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| Gotta sell a few mil outta your own still
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| I won’t sugar coat it, burn your throat
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| Scared stay scared, I’m locked and loaded
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| Real is all me, they all can feel me
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| Dirt road the steeple, man of the people
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| Mix it, churn it, light it, burn it
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| Daylight to dark, me and my folks earn it
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| Plow it, haul it, hunt it, shoot it, skin it, fry it
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| That’s how we do it
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| Sip it, chug it, jar it, jug it
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| Do a little better than anyone else does it
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| Y’all are chasin' a thoroughbred
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| Y’all done got lapped out miles ahead
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| Too late to slow down, I’m a runaway train
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| Colt Ford, remember my name
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| Haters, Tweeters, bloggers, bashers
|
| Watch your mouth 'cause I run these pastures
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
|
| I can’t take this, I wanna make this real clear
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| What do y’all think I’ve been doin' here
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| Switchin' gears and changin' lanes
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| Jackin' up trucks, runnin' down lames
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| Light that flame for America
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| Cross that line I’m darin' ya
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| I got a shotgun that’ll take care of ya
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| And a mud hole that I’ll bury ya
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| Gotta bunch of county folks all down to ride
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| And a bunch of rednecks ain’t scared to fight
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| I’ma give it to ya my way, dirt road, highway
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| Four-wheel, jack it up, talk shit, back it up
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| Y’all a trip and I’m out of your league
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| Sippin' shine and I’m hard to see
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| I’m somethin' you’ll never be
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| It’s a pipe dream, you can’t outshine me
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| 'Cause I’m dura-coated, turbo charged
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| Everything about me is large
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| Y’all keep chasin' a thoroughbred
|
| Y’all done got lapped out miles ahead
|
| I will never slow down, I’m a runaway train
|
| Colt Ford, remember my name
|
| Haters, Tweeters, bloggers, bashers
|
| Watch your mouth 'cause I run these pastures
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me
|
| I got a copper still hand built up in the hills
|
| Fill it up with corn mash, heat it up, and chill
|
| White liquor hits you quicker, knock you off your feet
|
| Lay down your mason jars, you can’t outshine me |