| You can call us windows down and country cranked up
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| Hot girls, cold beer and pickup trucks
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| Swinging hips and cherry gloss lips
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| It’s pretty much what it is
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| Well you can call us banged up Fords and beat up Chevys
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| handed down from daddy
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| Watching this big old world spin around
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| Popping 'em up and dropping 'em down
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| All the beers drank on 'em
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| All the stars counted on 'em
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| First kisses and Friday nights
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| And Daisy Duke tan legs swinging off of 'em
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| All the planes watched on 'em
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| All the babies made on 'em
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| I know it might sound cliche but that’s okay
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| The truth is a lotta life gets lived
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| And love gets made
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| Between hoods and tailgates
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| You can call us moonshine, box wine, Boone’s farm sipping
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| Hand over heart and trucker hat tipping
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| Steel guitar, five string Joe
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| Maybe little more than on the radio
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| Watching this big old world spin around
|
| Popping 'em up and dropping 'em down
|
| All the beers drank on 'em
|
| All the stars counted on 'em
|
| First kisses and Friday nights
|
| And Daisy Duke tan legs swinging off of 'em
|
| All the planes watched on 'em
|
| All the babies made on 'em
|
| I know it might sound cliche but that’s okay
|
| The truth is a lotta life gets lived
|
| And love gets made
|
| Between hoods and tailgates
|
| Whoa, baby you and me
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| Whoa, made a lot of memories
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| All the beers drank on 'em
|
| All the stars counted on 'em
|
| First kisses and Friday nights
|
| And Daisy Duke tan legs swinging off of 'em
|
| All the planes watched on 'em
|
| All the babies made on 'em
|
| I know it might sound cliche but that’s okay
|
| The truth is a lotta life gets lived
|
| And love gets made
|
| Between hoods and tailgates |