Country Fried

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
On my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off (yeah)
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
All my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)

Everybody wanna be a country trend
Everybody wanna be a superstar
Everybody wanna have a jacked-up truck
When really that's not even who they are

Hashtag, dressin' up, Insta' game all messed up
Hell nah, come kick mud in them deep sticks with them big boys (let's go)
I'm southern-grown by the grace of God, shockin' folks like a cattle prod
People that blew me off last year now hit me up with a text or call

Like we're close, what's wrong with y'all?
When I stood up, you wanted me to fall
And now I beat the odds, and now I'm standin' tall
Boy, buck up and don't buck it all

And it's funny how that shit goes, last year I wasn't known
A month passed, and I blew up, now I got fans in other time zones
People think that I'm all a joke
On my front porch straight blowin' smoke
But I'm in the ring like gold ropes, straight redneck, just too dope

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
All my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off (Yeah)
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
All my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)

Chevrolet tuned up, rockin' me a crew cut
Hottie ridin' shottie tanned up with a huge butt
Gun in the back glass, V8 go fast
Cherry red lock her lips, motherfucker look bad

Everybody look back, smooth as some cold Jack
Finger to the haters, all I do is don't laugh
Backwoods so bad, comin' like a nomad
Slingin' up mud, spinnin' wheels like a dirt track, okay

And these people said that I couldn't though (though)
And these people said that I wouldn't, so (hahaha)
I turned around with a grin, crooked smile
And I knew what the hell I was doin'
Just had to wait for perfect timin'

Now it's photoshoots, videos, rockin' all of my old clothes
RHEC'n shit since day one, hillbilly hype on SoCo
And they say I'm gonna change
But middle Tennesseans don't ever uproot their ways, boy

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
All my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)

I got ganja in the console, shine in the toolbox
Rebel flag's flyin', straight pipes straight poppin' off (yeah)
Bow tie on the billet, this honkey's hot, watch me sizzle
All my country fried shit, eatin' rappers out the skillet (hell naw)



Credits
Writer(s): Jared Ryan Sciullo, Matthew Jones, Justin N. Spillner, Brian Desind
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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