'Cause I ain't never seen a country boy with tires on his truck this high I said climb on up but honey watch the cup That I'm spitting my dip inside and hold on tight 'Cause it's gonna be wilder than any eight second ride Well I said hey girl what's your

Jee-pers, cree-pers, where'd get those pee-pers? Jee-pers, cree-pers, where'd ya get those eyes? Gosh all, git up, how'd they get so lit up? Gosh all, git up, how's they get that size? Golle gee! When you turn those heat-ers on Woe is me, got to put

Go go. Go Johnny go Johnny B. Goode Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans Way back up in the woods amongst the evergreens There stood an old cabin made of earth and wood Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode That never ever learned to

Tonight is bottoms up Throw it on down Rock this quiet, little country town Get up, drop a tailgate on ya truck Find a keg and fill ya cup up Kick it on back Pretty little mama lookin at ya like that Make ya wanna slide on in like girl, what’s up

I can see us in a house next year You'll be making your mind up You can figure out what goes where Everybody needs something all the fuckin' time It doesn't come that easy anyway Every time I try it never feels the way it did at the start This one for my

Makes you wanna build A 10 percent down White picket fence house on this dirt Its that elm shade Red roads clay you grew up on You circled up on Drift a cloud back Behind county roads The mud on her jeans that she peeled off

Don't you leave me all alone Leave your perfume on my pillow and your picture on my phone Leave the towel on the shower and that empty shampoo bottle That make-up on the counter And I don't mind at all When you gotta go 'Cause I love what you've done You

It got blood on the money and I still count it They got blood on the money and I still count it I can't help the way I'm raised up That Easter Pink, I tried to give it up, I can't give it up We've been at the laundromat all day We've been washin' money

The cavalries charged When God's on your side Oh my name it ain't nothin' My age it means less The country I come from Is called the Midwest I was taught and brought up there The laws to abide And that land that I live in

All the wasted words I said In all the cities that I left The last act of our precious play Must not close with regret (regret) All the wasted words There are days when sorrow seems never-ending Like the countless roads upon which I've driven The price