| We can fire up the grill
|
| Or we can fire up a moonshine still
|
| Or we can hop in the trucks
|
| And go get them thangs covered in mud
|
| Whichever way it goes
|
| I can promise you this
|
| We ain’t got no worries in the sticks (That's right)
|
| And them city folks can kiss our grits
|
| We sitting back with the charcoal lit
|
| Ain’t no city folk livin' like this
|
| Tell 'em all to go and kiss our grits
|
| Man we like it down here back in the sticks
|
| Really don’t know of a better way
|
| Till I can break it down and really try to explain it
|
| Really got a lot to be thankful for
|
| Man, who am I to start complainin'
|
| Ain’t it great to be from the country
|
| In the greatest country on the globe
|
| Sit back with a six pack in the pitch black
|
| Get back buddy we takin' it slow
|
| Living how we wanna
|
| Just really wanna be left alone
|
| Some of them folks wanna tell me
|
| That they’re really not impressed, now where are my songs
|
| I’m not too impressed
|
| And just thankful now for my blessing
|
| Stressing’s something I don’t really like
|
| To get involved in
|
| Dressing in them old jeans, dirty boots
|
| Plaid shirt and that trucker hat
|
| Coming up from the grill and they smelling good
|
| So get you some of that
|
| We can fire up the grill
|
| Or we can fire up a moonshine still
|
| Or we can hop in the trucks
|
| And go get them thangs covered in mud
|
| Whichever way it goes
|
| I can promise you this
|
| We ain’t got no worries in the sticks (That's right)
|
| And them city folks can kiss our grits
|
| Come on out let’s hop in the truck
|
| Gonna get buried in the mud and the muck
|
| Never really been rich but it’s all good
|
| Man, at least I’ve always had enough
|
| Yeah, that’s what I’m 'bout
|
| Born and raised in that deep south
|
| Clout for the bout, anybody wanna doubt
|
| We gon' give 'em a reason to come check us out
|
| Don’t knock it till you try it
|
| Country cats know what we doing, man
|
| Come on down to these woods
|
| And best believe they something brewing, that’s right
|
| We doin' life the best we know
|
| And how that we were taught
|
| Knowing that the best things we got in life
|
| Are not some of them things that can be bought
|
| We balling on that acreage
|
| And I ain’t just saying it
|
| God fearin' country boys with a full gun rack
|
| Nothing that you wanna be playing with
|
| So fan that flame, let’s get it cooking
|
| That’s just how we gonna roll
|
| Let it smoke and let it drip
|
| And grab your problems, let 'em go
|
| We can fire up the grill
|
| Or we can fire up a moonshine still
|
| Or we can hop in the trucks
|
| And go get them thangs covered in mud
|
| Whichever way it goes
|
| I can promise you this
|
| We ain’t got no worries in the sticks (That's right)
|
| And them city folks can kiss our grits |