| You ain’t gotta be that close to hear me comin'
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| I’m roarin' down the highway speakers thumpin' to somethin'
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| It costs a pretty penny to raise up and ride
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| 'Cause they don’t come from the factory this high
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| I got a whole mess of rednecks, real unsteady
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| Willin' to get down in the dirt, bloody and sweaty
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| Ain’t lookin' for no trouble but we sittin' already
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| I ain’t sayin' you should come but if you do come heavy
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| Firearms locked, loaded, brass knuckles
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| Rifles, machetes, boots, and belt buckles
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| Two boxes on the back both full of lead
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| Ammo, camo from toe to head
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| Flashin' lights in the rear view, here they come
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| I ain’t tryna go to jail, fellows we gotta run
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| When I drop the sledge hammer it sounds so good
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| I got a whole stable sittin' under the hood
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| It go
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| Rahhh
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| And my pipes go rahhh
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| My Super Duty go rahhh
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| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh
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| County boys go rahhh
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| My mid grips go rahhh
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| My thunder header go rahhh
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| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh
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| Well I’m screamin' with the Demon
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| Jonesin' for nothin'
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| Wanted to get high, hell I’m high ' cause the truck is
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| Tail pipes blowin' smoke no chokin'
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| Never stuck, not a mudhole I won’t go in
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| Speakers bangin' like your chrome four four is
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| No it ain’t a Ford but Lord you better focus
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| Them tires proper, sit like a helicopter
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| Redneck rapper if you allergic call a doctor
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| But there ain’t no intravenous drug that can stop ya
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| Enviousness so your best bet’s to quit cold turkey
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| Search and find your internal soul purpose
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| To be on this earth like I did
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| Now I ride, never on the highways doin' 90
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| On gravel and travelin' and doin' it my way
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| Saddlin' up the steel horse I feel it in my veins
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| Me and the rider the same, we goin' insane
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| We goin'
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| Rahhh
|
| And my pipes go rahhh
|
| My Super Duty go rahhh
|
| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh
|
| County boys go rahhh
|
| My mid grips go rahhh
|
| My thunder header go rahhh
|
| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh
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| Yeah you can hear me comin' bu-bu-bu-bu-bumpin'
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| Twelves like shot gun shells pu-pu-pu-pu-pumpin'
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| Hell since twelve I been thu-thu-thu-thu-thumpin'
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| Rebellious hell, yeah you ain’t tellin' me nothin'
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| But something’s tellin' me minus amphetamines and felonies
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| We still gon' rock 'til we drop
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| 'Cause Charley Farley be out in the country scene
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| Scenic routes trucks mud shinin' off
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| It’s got to be noisy, fast, and real loud
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| To make a Jones County boy from the muddy south proud
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| Disturbin' the peace, citations is a must
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| So rev your motor and crank your system up 'til it bust
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| Here come that crew on two and four wheels
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| Makin' the ground shake just like an earthquake feels
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| Leavin' black marks on the road everywhere we go
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| Everybody knows when we comin' 'cause we make it go
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| Rahhh
|
| And my pipes go rahhh
|
| My Super Duty go rahhh
|
| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh
|
| County boys go rahhh
|
| My mid grips go rahhh
|
| My thunder header go rahhh
|
| Make some noise go rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh, rahhh |