Way Down South (feat. Kyle Cook, Danny Boone, Demun Jones)

We goin' way down, way down, way down south We goin' way down, way down, way down Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down We goin' way down I'm a workaholic, alcoholic, everything-aholic Hillbilly, bumpkin', whatever name you call it My mama smokes Winstons and my daddy drinks wine The Muscadine kind, and I love 'em, they mine I got a big sister named Ginger that'll whip your ass Quick, fast, this is something that you should know We ain't just from down there, we're from out there (out there) No newspaper, we ain't on their route, yeah (yeah) Yeah, country, no city water (nope) No pizza, man, we didn't even get the order (nope) But we workin', we ain't afraid of labor (yup) When the works done, we wakin' up the neighbors (come on) And they live a half a mile away from us We crank it up louder, wishin' they would say somethin' But they wouldn't anyway, 'cause they on the way Will we be alive tomorrow? We can only pray We goin' way down, way down, way down south We goin' way down, way down, way down Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down We goin' way down We comin' at you live from the bottom Right-hand corner, 55 degree weather But the summer like a sauna, man You could cut the humidity with a Husqvarna (country) Damn skippy, can't wash it off ya Hard-working daddy, mama mighty bossy They don't like me runnin' with my buddy, Bubba, we be gettin' saucy Like some good ole boys know to do 'round these parts Whiskey sips got us fit to be tied Pitching more than a hissy fit Wide open spaces, out in the sticks I'm in La Grange tryna holler at some Dixie chicks Don't get mad at me, Natalie, I'm just tipsy as piss We goin' way down, way down, way down south We goin' way down, way down, way down Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down We goin' way down South (ooh, ooh) Way down, like Jones County We candy cane, we doin' it like it ain't Lemme say it now, the replay on the rounds is Bubba, Danny and me And we comin' to tear it down, and then we raisin' a banner And we ain't takin' it down, we crankin' the music louder We makin' it shake the ground, lay it down, lay it down Hey, what you know about them loud-ass crackers, the gentlemen of the south? While we hangin' outta windows and ridin' 'round the town In a black Duramax jacked way up off the ground Smoke stacks, big grips, hips and bottle lifts Drink bottles to the bottom 'cause we take big sips And little bitty hips, but here that's a fact Move your bottom, better get it together, now bring it back, y'all We goin' way down, way down, way down south We goin' way down, way down, way down Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down We goin' way down south (ooh, ooh) We goin' way down south