Country Band Man

I live back in the woods, you see

I got a five star plant standin' fifty feet

Down an old dirt road off of Interstate 10

Bring a twenty pack, dime sack, party begins

Got a shotgun and a box of birds

Hop up out the truck and ask what's the good word?

Got shrooms in the pasture, growin' up some laughter

If the cops show up, then it really don't matter

Around the fire, just writin' this song

Got my family and friends right where we belong

Got some peer pressure, but just come as you are

You can pass out in the yard, now you're sleepin' with the stars

Dream about the streets of gold

Livin' in the past, so I never grow old

Passin' time on my grandaddy's land

I started shootin' the shit and then I started a band

'Cause I'm a country band man

Smokin' weed, cookin' contraband

I grew up in the southern land

Playin' guitar with my calloused hands

Well, I'm a country band man

Smokin' weed, cookin' contraband

I grew up in the southern land

I'm still workin' with my calloused hands

Check this out, I'm 'bout to speak a little truth

About some good old boys that were brought up in the Lou

See I'm a country band man, you know I grew up in the southern land

High demand, supply demand, 'cause I'm a fuckin' rider, man

Red linin' in a GMC, Sierra classic, baby

Back when gas was cheap

While we were poppin' the tabs, the girls were losin' their tops

Hittin' g-spots steadily dodgin' the cops

Across the levy, brah, down an old gravel road

Shit, we can go to Jamie's house, 'cause Daddy ain't home

Yeah, we were undercover lovers, hidin' bitches under covers

Fuck the others, they then smother, make our girlfriends baby mothers

All we needed was some time, didn't even cut the lights off

Legs soft, eat it raw, she runnin' like a chainsaw

Couple extra rooms, I got a couple extra women

Skinny dippin', finger slippin', definition easy livin', yeah

Well, I'm a country band man

Smokin' weed, cookin' contraband

I grew up in the southern land

Playin' guitar with my calloused hands

Well, I'm a country band man

Smokin' weed, cookin' contraband

I grew up in the southern land

Still workin' with my calloused hands

Well, I'm a country band man

Smokin' weed, cookin' contraband

I grew up in the southern land

Still workin' with my calloused hands

I live back in the woods, you see

I got a five star plant standin' fifty feet

Down an old dirt road off of Interstate 10

Bring a twenty pack, dime sack, party begins