Man, these boys think they got me
You ain’t got shit son
I’m the Lane Frost of this shit
So bring ya ass on in
(Hell yeah!)
I’m on my country boy shit, hillbilly like it’s Beverly
Cherry red Chevy, lift kit about a couple feet
Roots in my boots and I ain’t gotta prove shit
Follow me down to my woods, boy and hop off in these stix
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
Well I started from the bottom, now ya honkey got a buzz on
Pabst Blue Ribbon, cranking up a thumping country song
Tailgating, drinking beer, rolling up that greenery
Shooting at the ducks while they passing by my scenery
I came up from nothing, now my face in more than 50 states
Pedal to the metal, I ain’t even gonna tap the brakes
And I ain’t from the city, I’m from hollers, rivers, creeks, and lakes
Redneck as it gets cause this boy ain’t time to go in fake
Now let me pop that clutch
I ain’t your man with a plan, know that always crutch
I’m that motherfucking Hoss now, a zero trust
Rolling through your damn city in this bucket of rust
(Hell yeah!)
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
Nashville-born, small hick town raised
On the edge of music row, corn field, wind sways
Ford, Dodge, Chevrolet, rust bucket, still plays
Everything gets dirty trying to pave that way
I ain’t never had a hand out, never had a pick me up
Budweiser beer bottles breaking in my pickup truck
Chip on my shoulder, rocking me a heavy farmers tan
Honeys treat me lovely cause I’m popular on Instagram
Haters say I’m faking shit, say I’m the flame that’s barely lit
When I didn’t have the management to make sure that I’m well equipped
So fingers up and shots on me, famous and I’m twenty three
Self-made, son, country boy from middle Tennessee
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
We got clips, we got guns, drive them tires off in this mud
I’m from backwoods Cheatham County, boy them three words say it all
Dropping bucks, making dollars, small town man down from the holler
Middle finger to the world cause America’s my daughter
(Hell Yeah)