Country Band Man

Well, I live back in the woods, you see I got a five-star-plant standin' 50 feet Down an old dirt road off of Interstate 10 Bring a 20 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 pure 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, hope I never grow old Passin' time on my granddaddy's land I started shootin' the shit, 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 Still workin' with my calloused hands Check this out, I'm 'bout to speak a little truth About some good ol' boys that were brought up in the Lou See I'm the country band man, you know I grew up in the southern land High demand, supply demand, 'cause I'm a fuckin' rider man Red lining in a GMC, Sierra Classic baby, back when gas was cheap While we were popping 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 just 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's runnin' like a chainsaw Couple extra rooms, I got a couple extra women Skinny dippin', finger slippin', definition easy livin' 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 Well, I live back in the woods, you see I got a five-star-plant standin' 50 feet Down an old dirt road off of Interstate 10 Bring a 20 pack, dime sack, party begins