| In this day and age, Lifestyles ain’t all the same.
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| Everybody’s lookin for somebody else to blame.
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| But nothing irritates me worse than you hear you rich folks whine.
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| You’re addicted to wealth and to yourself,
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| You’re addicted to the dollar sign.
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| You put me down cause I was raised
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| Just a little bit different from you,
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| Well I work with my hands and respect my lands,
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| I’m trustee tried and true.
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| You get up to go to work, put on your pretty suit and tie,
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| Well I put on a beat up shirt, work boots, and faded old levi’s.
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| I grind my fucking knuckles to the bone to make ends meet.
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| So I’m glad that you get mad, when I drive fast down your street.
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| You get pissed off cause we like being mad all over town.
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| Well you can go to hell cause my Rebel Yell volume don’t go down.
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| We’re just backwoods boys, making noise in a new age society.
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| And we don’t give a shit about the stock market or life of luxury.
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| A simple man is what I am, status ain’t for me,
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| I may not have a yacht, but I’m happy as can be.
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| I can drink a beer and shoot a deer faster than you can blink.
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| But you think I’m trash and you’re high class and that your
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| Shit don’t stink.
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| Well I’m a honky tonkin, rib rompin, shit stompin redneck and
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| I don’t give a fuck what you think.
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| You snobby mr. |
| monebags have people you call friends,
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| But when it came down to it, you’d probly be to greedy to help them.
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| Well I’ve got more buddies for whom I’d put my life on the line,
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| Cause I know they’d do the same for me if I was ever in a bind.
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| Well your heart is made from parts that come from a septic tank,
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| When you kids don’t earn you’ll start to burn, you can take that to the bank.
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| You read the Wall Street Journal, sippin champagne in your limosine,
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| Well I’ll be alright with a cold Bud Light and a hot rod magazine.
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| You all love your BMW’s and Porches that you drive,
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| Well my gas guzzling '67 Bowtie suits me fine.
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| So keep in mind you pretty kids that think you’re all so cool,
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| Just remember we’re the ones that beat the shit out of you in school.
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| We’re just backwoods boys, making noise in a new age society.
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| And we don’t give a shit about the stock market or life of luxury.
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| A simple man is what I am, status ain’t for me,
|
| I may not have a yacht, but I’m happy as can be.
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| I can drink a beer and shoot a deer faster than you can blink.
|
| But you think I’m trash and you’re high class and that your
|
| Shit don’t stink.
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| Well I’m a honky tonkin, rib rompin, shit stompin redneck and
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| I don’t give a fuck what you think.
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| You like to play crochet, talk politics and vanity.
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| Well the grand ol' opry on saturday night on the radio’s fine with me.
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| I may not have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth,
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| But I’m proud to be a no bullshit boy from down south.
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| I’m 100% workin man that’s what I’ll always be,
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| So you upper class can kiss my ass cause you ain’t worth a shit to me.
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| We’re just backwoods boys, making noise in a new age society.
|
| And we don’t give a shit about the stock market or life of luxury.
|
| A simple man is what I am, status ain’t for me,
|
| I may not have a yacht, but I’m happy as can be.
|
| I can drink a beer and shoot a deer faster than you can blink.
|
| But you think I’m trash and you’re high class and that your
|
| Shit don’t stink.
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| Well I’m a honky tonkin, rib rompin, shit stompin redneck and
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| I don’t give a fuck what you think.
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| No we don’t give a fuck about your big bucks or what you think.
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| No weeeee don’t give a flyin fuck what you think.
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| FUCK YOU! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song What You Think , by - Rebel Son. Song from the album Articles of Confederation, in the genre Альтернатива