Ooh, yeah

Used to think if he's from Georgia

Then baby he's a peach

But just 'cause he's got them big brown eyes

Don't mean that he can see

Pick yourself up by the boots

Get your tires on the streets

Let that burning rubber sweep that boy up off his feet

Driving down some dirt road is better

Than sitting at home

At the bar with a long neck is better

Than being alone

If you don't like the way he talk

If you don't like the way he act

Don't go handing over keys to your pink Cadillac

Just like papa told ya

Bait the hook and cast

If you don't like the fish you catch

Throw it back

Baby, don't get desperate

If he don't hit you up

There's all kinds of mix and models of 'em big old pickup trucks

Go get you one that's lifted, but honey not too high

'Cause we all know those kinds of boys can't keep us satisfied

If you don't like the way he talk

If you don't like the way he act

Don't go handing over keys to your pink Cadillac

Just like papa told ya

Bait the hook and cast

If you don't like the fish you catch

Throw it back

If he's business in the front and a party in the back

His mama take one look at him and have a heart attack

But if he says that he was raised on classic country songs

Grab him by the hand and take his country ass back home

If you don't like the way he talk

If you don't like the way he act

Don't go handing over keys to your pink Cadillac

Just like papa told ya

Bait the hook and cast

If you don't like the fish you catch

Throw it back