G.O.B by the G.O.G

(One, two, three, four)

You can brag about where you're from
All them drugs you done
You can build your name off the money and the fame
But what happens when the money's gone, son
Build your house up on a hill
Ride around in a Coupe de Ville
But buddy, all that bling and them shiny things
Sure ain't keepin' it real
You can say whatcha wanna say
But I ain't ashamed

I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G
A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be
By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans
I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G, yeah

Ain't no such thing as a bad day of fishin'
If something gets broke around here, I'll fix it
I was raised on cornbread and chicken fried chicken
Every Sunday after church
I'm a redneck, blue collar, white t-shirt
'Til I'm six feet deep in the dirt

I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G
A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be
By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans
I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G., yeah

Oh, woah, oh, oh, oh
If you wanna know where I'm from
Straight outta Campton, son

I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G, yeah
A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be
By the grace of God 'til I'm six feet deep
G.O.B by the G.O.G

G.O.B by the G.O.G
A good ol' boy's all I'm ever gonna be
By the grace of God, it's plain to see
I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G, yeah
By the grace of God and the dirt on these jeans
I'm a G.O.B by the G.O.G, yeah