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This is Chance Alan’s back-porch megaphone. A rowdy, festival-sized kiss-off to nosy neighbors and “high-toned” gossip. Part party anthem, part territorial warning, it runs on CoUnTrY-FiEd swagger and “license to love and fight” attitude. Tailgate meets tent revival. “WE LIVE!” opener kicks into a stomping, beer-soaked block party where “boats in the water, boots in the dirt” is the only address that matters. It’s These Country Boys energy turned outward: “We’re livin’ loud in our own way.” “Mind your own business that's my advice. Shut u mouth would say it twice. 'Cause if u mind your damn own business and leave us be then you'll have country-fied peace of mind and so will we.” It’s not advice it’s a dirty boot lesson. Third time, “I ain’t gonna be nice.” It’s Beer Outlaw Battle Cry’s rowdy cousin, but for the backyard. “This hollar-back fugg’em style” ends with three words: “WHEN WE’RE DEAD” that’s when we’ll sleep. Until then: “boats in the water, boots in the dirt, beer and a shot.” If Beer Outlaw is the war flag, this is the “no trespassing” sign hammered into the fence post. Party hard, love loud, fight if you must, but mind your own damn business while we do it. Shit-kickers only.