Crédits
INTERPRÉTATION
Morgan Wallen
Chant
HARDY
Chant
Joey Moi
Guitare électrique
Jimmie Lee Sloas
Basse
Tom Bukovac
Guitare électrique
Bryan Sutton
Guitare acoustique
Dave Cohen
Claviers
Wes Hightower
Chœurs
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Morgan Wallen
Paroles/Composition
Ernest Keith Smith
Paroles/Composition
Ryan Vojtesak
Paroles/Composition
Michael Hardy
Paroles/Composition
James Maddocks
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
Josh Ditty
Ingénierie de prise de son
Ryan Yount
Ingénierie de montage
Joey Moi
Production
Scott Cooke
Ingénierie de montage
Matt McCartney
Ingénierie de montage
Eivind Nordland
Ingénierie de montage
Ted Jensen
Ingénierie de mastérisation
Paroles
[Verse 1]
Hey, Mister City Man
Rollie on your wrist, Nasdaq in your hand
Rollin' your eyes at my beat-up truck
Feed in the back, spittin' in my cup
[Verse 2]
Both our tags say Tennessee
I don't know you, I know you don't know me
But if this red light didn't have to change
I'd have time to say
[Chorus]
When you die, I hope you come back as a redneck
I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo
I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck
And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two
Catch the Holy Ghost on a pinewood bench
Drive across the county just to hook up a winch
Revel in the pride of a simple man
Maybe then you'll understand
Oh
[Verse 3]
I didn't choose my raisin' and you didn't choose yours
You work in four walls and I'm workin' four-by-fours
We ain't as different as you think we is, but I didn't pull up sayin'
"Won't you look at that born rich, fed with a silver spoon, trust fund kid," like you did
[Chorus]
So when you die, I hope you come back as a redneck
I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo
I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck
And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two
Catch the Holy Ghost on a pinewood bench
Drive across the county just to hook up a winch
Revel in the pride of a simple man
Maybe then you'll understand
[Bridge]
Why we say grace, why we hold hands
Keep a shotgun right by the nightstand
And why we love a good rain comin' down
And never leave these so-called backward, backwood, good-for-nothing, hillbilly hick towns
[Chorus]
So when you die, I hope you come back as a redneck
I hope it sticks on you like a hell-hot sun tattoo
I hope you break your back for that barely-get-by paycheck
And when you can't, you gotta go and bloody up a buck or two, yes, you do
Catch the Holy Ghost on a pinewood bench
Drive across the county just to hook up a winch
Revel in the pride of a simple man
Maybe then you'll understand
Oh
[Outro]
Yeah, then you'll understand
Written by: Ernest Keith Smith, James Maddocks, Michael Hardy, Milan Sunil Modi, Morgan Wallen, Ryan Vojtesak

