Lyrics Say About Me - Chris Janson
Rolling
Stone
called
me
the
most
open-minded
redneck
on
the
block
Yeah,
but
I
ain't
the
first
good
ol'
boy
to
mix
country
with
his
rock
See
I
grew
up
in
a
single
wide
with
a
poster
of
Kid
Rock
And
when
you
start
out
from
the
bottom
son,
You
scream
when
you're
on
top
From
a
muddy
truck
to
a
shiny
bus
to
a
twin
turbo
jet
The
odds
are
always
stacked
against
me
But
there
ain't
nothin'
stopped
me
yet
Cause
I
make
money,
I
make
music
I
got
swagger
and
I
use
it
Cowboy
hat
when
I
feel
it
Feather
in
the
back,
Zebco
reelin'
Skip
from
a
Bentley
to
a
350
I
wake
up
in
the
mornin'
see
how
it
hits
me
At
the
end
of
the
day
I'm
just
a
redneck
boy
in
the
hills
of
Tennessee
And
I
was
raised
not
to
care
what
people
say
about
me
See
I
got
the
hottest
woman
that
this
world
has
ever
seen
And
I
married
that
girl
on
a
farm
in
the
country
Underneath
a
magnolia
tree
A
couple
years
went
by
and
a
demo
of
mine
hopped
on
the
radio
So
we
bumped
it
up
to
a
master
track
and
we
took
it
out
on
the
road
And
before
I
knew
it
there
was
Platinum
records
up
hangin'
on
my
wall
And
I
thank
God
every
day
I'm
a
member
of
the
Grand
Ole
Opry
y'all
Cause
I
make
money,
I
make
music
I
got
swagger
and
I
use
it
Cowboy
hat
when
I
feel
it
Feather
in
the
back,
Zebco
reelin'
Skip
from
a
Bentley
to
a
350
I
wake
up
in
the
mornin'
see
how
it
hits
me
At
the
end
of
the
day
I'm
just
a
redneck
boy
In
the
hills
of
Tennessee
And
I
was
raised
not
to
care
what
people
say
about
me
Now
all
the
people
in
the
front
say
"Oh
yeah"
Now
all
the
people
in
the
back
say
"Alright"
Now
put
your
right
and
your
left
hand
up
Back
and
forth,
let
me
see
you
all
night
See
I
share
the
wealth
and
I
share
the
blessings
'Cause
the
blessings
were
given
to
me
And
I
give
my
thanks
and
all
of
my
praise
to
a
God
that
I
can't
see
Cause
I
make
money,
I
make
music
I
got
swagger
and
I
use
it
Cowboy
hat
when
I
feel
it
Feather
in
the
back,
Zebco
reelin'
Skip
from
a
Bentley
to
a
350
I
wake
up
in
the
mornin'
see
how
it
hits
me
At
the
end
of
the
day
I'm
just
a
redneck
boy
In
the
hills
of
Tennessee
And
I
was
raised
not
to
care
what
people
say
about
me
We
raised
up
on
that
Hank
Jr.
83,
son
Put
your
hands
in
the
air,
put
your
hands
in
the
air
Now
somebody
scream
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