| Southern boy, in your pickup truck
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| Seasons change, dashboard stays
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| Covered in red clay dust
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| Southern boy
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| You’ve never been scared to fight
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| Your family name is a lot of things
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| You just don’t compromise
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| Keep singing them songs
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| Keep carrying on, yeah
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| Keep stealing those kisses
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| From your southern belle
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| Keep loving those Friday nights
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| Keep rolling with your buddies
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| And raise a little hell
|
| But just don’t cross the line
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| We all know there ain’t
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| Nothing like the feeling
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| The way you grew up
|
| Sunday kneeling
|
| Like glasspacks popping
|
| You keep making that noise
|
| Ya southern boy
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| Southern sky, watching over you
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| Looking down on your little town
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| And the hearts that hold your roots
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| Southern boy
|
| When the road starts getting rough
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| The wheels you’re on will get ya home
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| No matter how deep the mud
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| So keep singing them songs
|
| And keep carrying on, yeah, yeah
|
| Keep stealing those kisses
|
| From your southern belle
|
| Keep loving those Friday nights
|
| Keep rolling with your buddies
|
| And raise a little hell
|
| But just don’t cross the line
|
| We all know there ain’t
|
| Nothing like the feeling
|
| The way you grew up
|
| Sunday kneeling
|
| Like glasspacks popping
|
| You keep making that noise
|
| Southern boy
|
| Well keep telling your story
|
| So you’ll never be gone
|
| A keep carrying on
|
| Just keep carrying on
|
| Keep stealing those kisses
|
| From your southern belle
|
| Keep loving those Friday nights
|
| Keep rolling with your buddies
|
| And raise a little hell
|
| But just don’t cross the line
|
| We all know there ain’t
|
| Nothing like the feeling
|
| The way you grew up
|
| Sunday kneeling
|
| Like glasspacks popping
|
| You keep making that noise
|
| Southern boy
|
| Yeah, good old southern boy |