People talkin' ’bout what is and what ain’t country What gives ’em a right to wear a pair of beat-up boots? Is it the size of your tires and your fires, or your wild ass buddies? Well, give me a minute, let me hit you with some hometown truth You could be a cowboy on the Texas plain Or a plowboy waitin’ on the rain We’re all a little different, but we’re all the same Everybody doin' their own thing I got my dirt road cred when I was twelve On a no cab tractor hauling them bales Backing in boats, fishing limb lines Running bird dogs through the Georgia pines Step side cover down in peanut dust Friday night spotlight, and that was us It might not've been you, but I can't judge Just be proud of what makes you country Does it run in your blood? Did it come from your daddy and mama? Were you converted by an Alabama song on the radio? That feels so right Did you lock eyes with a little green eyed girl from Jackson? Tell me what got ya, I just gotta know Me, I got my Sunday learning in a Live Oak Church Silver Queen corn in a backyard dirt Waiting for the fall to finally come along So I can grab my gun and get my outside on Step side cover down in peanut dust Friday night spotlight, and that was us It might not've been you, but I can't judge Just be proud of what makes you country Might be from a city or a little farm town Whatever kind of square that you drove around Do you wear in on your sleeve or keep it deep down? You know you gotta let it out I got my dirt road cred back when I was twelve On a no cab tractor hauling them bales Backing in boats, fishing limb lines Running bird dogs through them Georgia pines Step side cover down in peanut dust Friday night spotlight, and that was us It might not've been you, but I ain't judging And just be proud of what makes you country Whatever makes you country You do your kinda country They doing they kind of country I do my kind of country Whatever makes us country