Country Folks
Country fried, baptized in gravy
I can't wash off what the good Lord made ya
No matter how far that highway goes
An old dirt road'll get you home (c'mon!)
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
For my country folk (hey) my country folk (hey)
I'm out here on a thousand acre plot of land
And I can't hear 'em hatin' on me, I'm a modest man
Talkin' with Jimmy Mathis and he got a plan
And when he talk I listen to him, that's a lot of man (pops!)
He said we need to take it back to the root of it
I put on for the country, that's the truth of it
I'm talkin' last millenium we was reppin' it
Before anybody had accepted it (anybody!)
We introduced 'em to the cooler on the tailgate
Full of cold Nattie Light playin' "Satellite"
A lil' Dave while we misbehave, okay (okay)
Once we figured the game out, we go play (go!)
The generation of people that love 2Pac
And hate, we bangin' it in the boondocks
Now put your drink in the air if you ain't scared
Dem folks been doin' that thang, yeah
Country fried, baptized in gravy
I can't wash off what the good Lord made ya
No matter how far that highway goes
An old dirt road'll get you home (c'mon!)
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
For my country folk (hey) my country folk (hey)
See me and Bubba, we've been doin' this a long while
It sure seems a lot longer than a country mile
Hollywood look good, full of fake friends
I never thought we could ever be here again (we back!)
Time heals, one fell, one came up
Back together son, we gon' tear this thing up
A lot of talk cousin, I ain't gotta name 'em
They wanna be us, hell I can't blame 'em (nah)
So looky here, cold beer on the tailgate
Been doin' this for some years, y'all so late (so late!)
Bangin' OutKast and a little George Strait
Hot damn, Colt Ford back with Bubba K
Country fried, baptized in gravy
I can't wash off what the good Lord made ya
No matter how far that highway goes
An old dirt road'll get you home (c'mon!)
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
For my country folk (hey) my country folk (hey)
E'rything real funny 'til the money come (and then what?)
Now they want some (what) when they ain't wanted none (oh)
And that's just how the thing go when you get 'er done (how?)
We did it son (yeah we did it son)
We was drinkin' Jim Beam by the handle (handle)
Me and Steven heard they're loadin' up ammo (ammo)
Bumpin' Goodie Mob, real tree camo (camo)
This white boy really think he Rambo! (Go!)
Cut the beat on, I bet his ass jam though
You don't like it straight to hell is where you can go
12-Pointer hangin' right above the mantle
You don't like the program? Change the channel (woo!)
Country fried, baptized in gravy
I can't wash off what the good Lord made ya
No matter how far that highway goes
An old dirt road'll get you home (c'mon!)
If you see it in their eye when they try to lie
If you the bullet-hole-in-a-stop-sign kind
Then I'm right there wit'cha, put your drinks up high
For my country folk (hey) my country folk (hey)