| Just a bunch of poor boys, daddy’s girls
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| Children of the corn field
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| Tryna turn a shift job into a dollar bill
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| We wear them muddy boots
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| Stay true to how we’re raised
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| Ain’t nothin' bout us fake
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| You know we’re straight out of that dirty south
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| Dirty roads, nobody got no money
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| Got them shined up pickup trucks
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| Whistlin' at them honies
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| From the country, yes sir
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| You know we’re straight out of that long week work
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| At night, everybody wanna party
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| All night long, bonfire on the back 40
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| In the middle of nowhere, ain’t nobody leavin' here
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| Til we’re straight out of cold beer, straight out of cold beer
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| Just a bunch of John Deere junkies
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| Gettin' funky to some old Hank
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| Nothin' been stuck in the mud that we can’t
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| Hook up to a rusty chain in the summer or in the rain
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| Yeah, it’s a kind of thing
|
| You know we’re straight out of that dirty south
|
| Dirty roads, nobody got no money
|
| Got them shined up pickup trucks
|
| Whistlin' at them honies
|
| From the country, yes sir
|
| You know we’re straight out of that long week work
|
| At night, everybody wanna party
|
| All night long, bonfire on the back 40
|
| In the middle of nowhere, ain’t nobody leavin' here
|
| Til we’re straight out of cold beer, straight out of cold beer
|
| You know we’re straight out of that dirty south
|
| Dirty roads, nobody got no money
|
| Got them shined up pickup trucks
|
| Whistlin' at them honies
|
| From the country, yes sir
|
| You know we’re straight out of that long week work
|
| At night, everybody wanna party
|
| All night long, bonfire on the back 40
|
| In the middle of nowhere, ain’t nobody leavin' here
|
| Til we’re straight out of cold beer, straight out of cold beer |