| Friday night, strings tuned just right
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| On a stage under some cheap neon lights
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| 35 of my best friends in the crowd
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| At that Town Pump where I was playing when
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| I was just 19 and my friends couldn’t get in
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| But, you sure as hell know we were
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| Sneakin' through the back door
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| I’ve played 46 out of the 50 states
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| For the last 10 years just trying to find my way
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| But every time I leave I just wanna come back home
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| I’m California Grown
|
| Yeah we spend our
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| Weekdays with dirt on our hands
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| Weekends our toes in the sand
|
| Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night
|
| But Saturday we’re sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
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| Sunday when the service ends
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| Hop in the truck, throw the boat on a hitch
|
| Pullin' Tracy over 6ft wakes
|
| Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
|
| Just me and the boys, doin' all we know
|
| Yeah there’s nothing quite like this place that I call home
|
| I’m California Grown
|
| Yeah we’re California Grown
|
| You might think you know about this place, and say
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| «There ain’t nothin country 'bout the Golden State, it’s just |
| Palm trees, beaches and celebrities.»
|
| Well have you ever heard about that Bakersfield Sound?
|
| Owens and Haggard used to run that town
|
| You go 2 hours north of the Hollywood sign you’ll find
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| Farm lands, miles wide
|
| Weekdays with dirt on our hands
|
| Weekends our toes in the sand
|
| Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night
|
| But Saturday we’re sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
|
| Sunday when the service ends
|
| Hop in the truck, throw the boat on a hitch
|
| Pullin' Tracy over 6ft wakes
|
| Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
|
| Just me and the boys, doin' all we know
|
| Yeah there’s nothing quite like this place that I call home
|
| I’m California Grown
|
| Yeah we’re California Grown
|
| From Santa Rosa all the way to LA
|
| From San Diego to the San Fran Bay
|
| Well you can find me in the Sacramento Valley
|
| Probably shootin' shit with Mr. Jon Pardi
|
| Weekdays with dirt on our hands
|
| Weekends our toes in the sand
|
| Shootin' whiskey on a Friday night
|
| But Saturday we’re sippin' Margaritas in the daylight
|
| Sunday when the service ends
|
| Hop in the truck, throw the boat on a hitch |
| Pullin' Tracy over 6ft wakes
|
| Spending every summer out there on Clear Lake
|
| Just me and the boys, doin' all we know
|
| Yeah there’s nothing quite like this place that I call home
|
| I’m California Grown
|
| California Grown
|
| California Grown |