| Well me and the boys are feelin' alright
|
| Raisin' some hell, sippin' on whiskey and 'shine, yeah
|
| Bob Dylan on the juke box, shooting' some pool
|
| Telling' some stories and stretching the truth and lies
|
| Yeah, I feel the cell phone start buzzing in my pocket
|
| Boys, you keep on rocking' but I gotta roll, roll,
|
| Point this Silverado down the road, road
|
| Yeah, I know the beer’s here are cold
|
| But I’ve got something' warm waiting for me at home
|
| Boys, I gotta go see about a girl
|
| Ain’t nothin' you can say, so don’t even try
|
| The second she call that little girl made up my mind,
|
| Yeah, she did
|
| Don’t' buy me no shot, don’t bring me no drink
|
| Don’t go wasting' your money on me, bye, bye
|
| Boys, you keep on rocking' but I gotta roll, roll,
|
| Point this Silverado down the road, road
|
| Yeah, I know the beer’s here are cold
|
| But I’ve got something' warm waiting for me at home
|
| Boys, I gotta go see about a girl
|
| If you ever find a girl like mine,
|
| Boys you’ll know why
|
| I gotta roll, roll
|
| Point my Silverado down the road, road
|
| Yeah, I know the beer’s here are cold
|
| But I’ve got something' warm waiting for me at home
|
| Boys, I gotta go see about a girl
|
| Sorry Boys, I gotta go see about my girl
|
| Ooh ooh oh yeah
|
| Ooh ooh oh |