Chance Alan

Lyrics

These Country Boys, well they
Drink beers and and chase honky-tonk women
Eat deer and miss fishin’ none
Family Tradition, Folsom Prison, Walk The Line

All dirt gravel roads were made for drivin’ fast
Yeah this is fuggin’ best life
That's a fuggin’ muggin’ fact

I hate citified morons too
I want a house a piece of land for me ’n you
We deserve a bunch money from Cornbread ’n planted rows
Rednecka's wanna earn a dime or two don't be mad

Trucks should be diesels, a fuggin’ muddy blast
If you disagree well my momma never whipped my ass, huh
I guess she never tried
Man stick a fork ’n those tryin’ to be country
You’re being denied

Yeah got that rebel shit-kicker right
I'm not too good for solo cups
Momma's homemade fried chicken it doesn't suck
Boots are made to get scuffed up
How you like sass oh kiss my ass
Yeah my neck is red John Deere’s are green
If you're as country as I am
With a shit-kicker PhD yeah that’s me

I love deer stands ’n deer blinds I want a house on a piece of land
I deserve a fishin’ boat but I don't wanna choke Rednecka's American flag
Yeah red, blue ’n white stars stripes
Trucks pickup style have a beer set back a while

Rodeos bullshitz rides
Oh damn barrel racin’ rodeo queens daisy dukes worn out boots
Country’s damn good music yeah you got that shitz right
Saturdays can't beat Friday’s neon nights

These Country Boys gotcha hook line ’n sinker

If ya don't like us no worries here’s my middle finger
No worries I got two for you