| The way I talk, I guess I got it from my pops
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| Probably took some kneelin' down
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| In a town where the doors don’t lock
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| And there’s a million other people like me
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| From a scene a little more podunk than pop
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| I didn’t choose being born in the sticks
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| And I’ll be damned if I sound like something I ain’t
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| For some folks, the backroad gets old
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| But for me, it just can’t
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| 'Cause I’m from a small town, southern drawl crowd
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| We’re sippin' clear, drinkin' beer on a Friday night
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| Every country girl got on a cutoff
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| Shakin' her hips, take a trip, but he tell me I’m a liar
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| So circle up big trucks around a fire
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| Still kickin' up some dust behind the tires
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| Call it cliché, but hey, just take it from me
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| It’s still goin' down out in the country
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| Somewhere now, someone’s out there
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| Sippin' on some hundred proof
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| Every day, a baby’s born with some baby blues
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| A good ol' boy’s got on his faded boots
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| Workin' a nine to five
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| I’m just another southern hell raiser
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| Ain’t breakin' ground
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| Makin' sound for them drop-it-down tailgaters
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| But y’all, that’s all I know to say
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| So if you think I’m full of it, ain’t gonna check the resume
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| 'Cause I’m from a small town, southern drawl crowd
|
| We’re sippin' clear, drinkin' beer on a Friday night
|
| Every country girl got on a cutoff
|
| Shakin' her hips, take a trip, but he tell me I’m a liar
|
| So circle up big trucks around a fire
|
| Still kickin' up some dust behind the tires
|
| Call it cliché, but hey, just take it from me
|
| It’s still goin' down out in the country
|
| 'Cause I’m from a small town, southern drawl crowd
|
| We’re sippin' clear, drinkin' beer on a Friday night
|
| Every country girl got on a cutoff
|
| Shakin' her hips, take a trip, but he tell me I’m a liar
|
| So circle up big trucks around a fire
|
| Still kickin' up some dust behind the tires
|
| Call it cliché, but hey, just take it from me
|
| It’s still goin' down out in the country |