| It’s the mudslingin', country singin' redneck stunner
|
| Imma show you who I am if you really think you wanna
|
| take a ride down the dirty road, show ya where the still is
|
| skeered? |
| stay at home son, this is where the real is
|
| Folks 'round her still believe in God
|
| and the right to tote a gun and our flag don’t run
|
| ain’t askin' you fo nothin' if we can’t get it on our own
|
| tell the government to leave my check and church alone
|
| Y’all can do y’all and we’ll do us
|
| and our money should always say «In God We Trust»
|
| So if you think like that, then you one of us
|
| if not then move on and leave us alone
|
| Cuz country folk can survive, jus' ask Hank
|
| leave my money in my pocket y’all can have the bank
|
| I’m tryin to tell ya we smarter than some of y’all think
|
| even though we talk slow all of y’all should know that.
|
| This is our song everybody sing it
|
| clap your hands y’all and do it like you mean it
|
| Stand our ground and we don’t back down
|
| if you’re from a small town and you’re never gonna leave it
|
| This is our song everybody sing it
|
| clap your hands y’all and do it like you mean
|
| Stand our ground and we don’t back down
|
| and if you don’t like it then don’t come around
|
| We come from hardworking people, they can’t stand a thief
|
| don’t like a liar, freezer full of deer meat
|
| home grown tomatoes in the kitchen window
|
| Daddy is a deacon, mama sings «Swing Low»
|
| at the church in the choir, Sunday dinners on the fire
|
| Colt Ford Danny Boone gettin' mud up on the tires
|
| We represent our folk but don’t take us for a joke
|
| we got a cooler full of boo and a pocket full of smoke
|
| Yeah we country as corn bread, and pumpin' Nappy Roots
|
| and if it ain’t funeral we ain’t gon' wear a suit
|
| We peein' off the front porch, peein' of da back
|
| cuz we livin' in da boonies and they don’t know where we at
|
| Can’t market us urban, won’t market us rural
|
| drinkin' moonshine till we drunk and seein' plural
|
| Small town livin' and we don’t give a damn
|
| if yo Hollywood or not, cuz we know who we am
|
| Ain’t funny how the money change who you is
|
| sell your sould to teh devil be a star in his biz
|
| give up everything so you can play this game
|
| make a buncha folks happy that don’t know yo name
|
| Don’t worry 'bout me, Imma spit the truth
|
| see I gotta represent for our country youth
|
| and keep hope alive, cuz I will survive
|
| with a shotgun baby and a four wheel drive
|
| I’m buck huntin' dog runnin' playin' in a mud hole
|
| pumping Johnny Cash, haulin' ass down a back road
|
| Love it in the country where my soul is free
|
| In God and my family is all I need, sing it |