Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song TRUCK , by - Hardy. Release date: 03.09.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
TRUCK |
| If it’s cleaned up, shined up, pedal down on Main |
| You can bet he’s pickin' up some pretty country thang |
| If it’s covered up in red mud with a worn-out Warn winch |
| There’s a good chance that that man is a pretty damn good friend |
| If there’s horns in the back |
| There’s a gun in the front |
| If there’s dents on the side |
| He ain’t scared of nothin' |
| And if the 12-pack's in the passenger seat |
| Well he probably worked his ass off all week |
| Yeah, somewhere way out there in any given town |
| There’s a red, white, and blue collar drivin' his around |
| Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread, and stirrin' up dust clouds |
| Like a shine haulin' outlaw |
| Yeah, I’m talkin' 'bout his truck |
| His dash |
| The county on his tag |
| The songs on his radio |
| The stickers on his glass |
| From four bars to two bars |
| It’s true you can’t judge |
| A book by its cover |
| But you can judge a country boy by his truck |
| If there’s a silver cross hangin' off his dusty old rearview |
| It’s safe to say he’s found Amazing Grace a time or two |
| If there’s numbers on the back '92 to 2012 |
| Bet this story’s about his best friend that he can barely tell |
| 'Cause he misses him like hell |
| Somewhere way out there in any given town |
| There’s a red, white, and blue collar drivin' his around |
| Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread, and stirrin' up dust clouds |
| Like a shine haulin' outlaw |
| Yeah, I’m talkin' 'bout his truck |
| His dash |
| The county on his tag |
| The songs on his radio |
| The stickers on his glass |
| From four bars to two bars |
| It’s true you can’t judge |
| A book by its cover |
| But you can judge a country boy by his truck |
| If there’s horns in the back |
| There’s a gun in the front |
| If there’s dents on the side |
| He ain’t scared of nothin' |
| And if the 12-pack's in the passenger seat |
| Yeah, well he probably worked his ass off all week |
| Yeah, somewhere way out there in any given town |
| There’s a red, white, and blue collar drivin' his around |
| Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread, and stirrin' up dust clouds |
| Like a shine haulin' outlaw |
| Yeah, I’m talkin' 'bout his truck |
| His dash |
| The county on his tag |
| The songs on his radio |
| The stickers on his glass |
| From four bars to two bars |
| It’s true you can’t judge |
| A book by its cover |
| But you can judge a country boy by his truck |
| If there’s horns in the back |
| There’s a gun in the front |
| If there’s dents on the side |
| Yeah, you can judge a country boy by his truck |
| If there’s horns in the back |
| There’s a gun in the front |
| You can’t judge a book by its cover |
| But you can judge a country boy by his truck |