What I Claim

I ain't the best singer or the best lookin' I ain't got a plan to make people listen to me Ain't no designer tellin' me what to wear I hit Tractor Supply and get six of the same pair My claim to fame is a story in a page Marijuana and some thoughts written down to explain From a day I lived and turned into a song As I sat on a porch, gettin' stoned at my farm 29 years old, out livin' in a dream Big fancy tour bus and millions of streams But I'm still in muddy water, way more than waist-deep I love my upbringin' and I ain't ashamed That I claim the rednecks In every, "Where is that?" town on the map And I claim the rebel flags Flyin' high off a young man's Scottsdale cab And I claim every good ol' boy With homemade tattoos that he's still proud of It ain't how I dress, nah, it ain't how I sing It's how I tell 'em what I claim There'll never be another Johnny Cash But I feel like him when I'm pissed-off mad In one of my muscle cars, goin' way too fast Not worried if a deer even kills my ass Then after a few miles, I quit bein' so wreckless Light me up a roach while I'm listenin' to Elvis Like a hound dog hangin' out the window Still holdin' my soul 'cause the devil can't get it Yeah, music ain't money 'round here, no sir It's the blood in our veins and a flag on the porch Red with a blue circle, holdin' three bright stars In the 615, ask who we are They'll say we claim the rednecks In every, "Where is that?" town on the map Yeah, we claim the rebel flags Flyin' high off a young man's Scottsdale cab And we claim every good ol' boy With homemade tattoos that he's still proud of Yeah, it ain't how we dress, and it ain't how we sing It's how we tell 'em what we claim And, hell nah, we ain't ashamed Hopefully, one day, long from now Way in the future, when I'm underground A rebel child will discover the sound Of a Nashville-born, redneck loud-mouth And say that he claimed rednecks In every, "Where is that?" town on the map Yeah, he claimed the rebel flags Flyin' high off his truck and he didn't get scared And he claimed every good ol' boy With homemade tattoos like he had on his arm Yeah, it ain't how he dressed, and it ain't how he sang It's how he told 'em what he claimed Still ain't ashamed, motherfucker