Cornbread and turnip greens, dixie cup of ol jim beam, huntin in the light and fishin in the dark, Never been a man to rely
On words, never been afraid of a little dirt, and I can guarentee my bites worse then my bark, southern man and damn sure
Proud, I like drinkin to much and gettin to loud, cause there ain't nothin wrong with raisin just a little hell. Treat a lady
Like a lady, a man like a man, don't worry bout the things they don't understand, I live life somewhere between the Church and
The Jail.

CHORUS!
So lets roll down the windows, turn up that ol Hank, we'll hit the dirt road, drive to fast, sit back and drink, think bout
The life we all chose to lead, and then say a little prayer for outlaws just like me.

I love to hear the rain on my ol tin roof, copenhagen snuff and 90 proof, and I love it when my woman talks to me in a
Southern slang, camo hats, cowboy boots, Robert E Lee and my southern roots, and I love the way people raise hell when they
Here me sing.

CHORUS!

There ain't nothin better then the smell of pine, or anything south of the dixie line, from biluxi mississippi, to the
Taledaga track, pretty boy country has it's place, stayin in the lines and bein saved, but you better watch out cause outlaws
Are comin back,

CHORUS!