| White trash, trailer on a dirt road
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| Rebel flag flying from a light pole
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| Boondocks got miles of the fence posts
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| No trouble man, this is my kinfolk
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| Rednecks spread out through the deep south
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| Beer drinking, watching country folks show out
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| City living, that’s a whole 'nother tempo
|
| Ride slow, man, this is my kinfolk
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| Started from the mud now we here
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| Ain’t a damn thing changed here, drinking on a beer
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| No champagne, not a Quick Stop near
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| One ninety proof makes the clear
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| Riding through the swamp roads, see a deer pop that
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| Night vision, born a crocodile, top that
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| If you don’t know then you might wanna drop back
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| Game warden up a hill, right beside the hunting track
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| All of my life I’ve been running these woods
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| Yeah I still run in the same neighborhood
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| South side, Surf City maybe y’all heard me
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| I ain’t never leaving or checking out early
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| The same man killed my mama’s only son
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| I never grew up, I’m still having some fun
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| I said it before, man, I love my home
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| 'Cause this is where all my kinfolks roam
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| White trash, trailer on a dirt road
|
| Rebel flag flying from a light pole
|
| Boondocks got miles of the fence posts
|
| No trouble man, this is my kinfolk
|
| Rednecks spread out through the deep south
|
| Beer drinking, watching country folks show out
|
| City living, that’s a whole 'nother tempo
|
| Ride slow, man, this is my kinfolk
|
| Yeah, this is my kinfolk
|
| This is my kinfolk
|
| Yeah, this is my kinfolk
|
| And this is my kinfolk
|
| Get some wild bunch of young’uns raise’em up out in the country
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| If you’re counting on the party then you’re right on the money
|
| It ain’t nothing but a hick thing, Dixie I’ma whistle when we
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| Always giving it names back when we was little
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| Purdy Pa got it cooking man just pull up in the yard
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| We be chilling, tipping back and batch’in lightning in a jar
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| Get a pack of Timber Jack, gotta run him out the bowl
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| He’s in the trouble with the law, so he’s kinda laying low
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| My folks, my blood, man there’s always something happening
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| 'Bout to head out to the river, there’s a keg that needs a’tappin'
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| You can bet that I’ll be slappin' when they show up with a lean
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| Dirty southern redneck and I got it in my genes
|
| White trash, trailer on a dirt road
|
| Rebel flag flying from a light pole
|
| Boondocks got miles of the fence posts
|
| No trouble man, this is my kinfolk
|
| Rednecks spread out through the deep south
|
| Beer drinking, watching country folks show out
|
| City living, that’s a whole 'nother tempo
|
| Ride slow, man, this is my kinfolk
|
| White trash, trailer on a dirt road
|
| Rebel flag flying from a light pole
|
| Boondocks got miles of the fence posts
|
| No trouble man, this is my kinfolk
|
| Rednecks spread out through the deep south
|
| Beer drinking, watching country folks show out
|
| City living, that’s a whole 'nother tempo
|
| Ride slow, man, this is my kinfolk
|
| Yeah, this is my kinfolk
|
| This is my kinfolk
|
| Yeah, this is my kinfolk
|
| And this is my kinfolk |