| Hand me down guitar, handful of friends
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| Park in the dark, where the road dead ends
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| With the trunk popped open and the music blowing out the JBLs
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| Just popping them tops, yeah we were shooting off like a shotgun shell saying
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| Beer before liquor, yeah you’ve never been sicker
|
| Cops were pretty quick, yeah, but we were always quicker
|
| Burning up the road 'til the tank ran dry
|
| Just down home boys staying up all night
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| Fake ID, worn out boots
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| And they can’t tell me nothing kind of attitude
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| Got a styrofoam cup, gonna fill it on up with a little bit of whiskey
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| Just talking that smack, gonna take it out back, who’s coming with me?
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| Beer before liquor, yeah you’ve never been sicker
|
| Find yourself a girl, get her number, maybe kiss her
|
| Got a pack of Swishers, anybody got a light?
|
| Just down home boys staying up all night
|
| Whoa, yeah, whoa, yeah
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| That four on the floor
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| Try to leave a little more than a mark on a blacktop
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| With the world on the string
|
| We were living like kings of a run down map dot
|
| Beer before liquor, yeah you’ve never been sicker
|
| Cops were pretty quick, yeah, but we were always quicker
|
| Burning up the road 'til the tank ran dry
|
| Just down home boys staying up all night
|
| Down home boys staying up all night
|
| Whoa, yeah, whoa
|
| Staying up all night
|
| Whoa, yeah, whoa |