Lyrics Straight Outta The Country - Justin Moore

Yeah, she brings home the bacon, Tennessee looker
Third generation of a moonshine cooker
Kid on her hip, cig on her lip
Talking ′bout the real thing, y'all
He′s a rough neck baller, Skoal straight dipper
Old school scholar on anything Skynyrd
Loves the good Lord and his old Ford
Sitting on the creek bank
Yeah, there's really too many to mention
But they all need some recognition
So raise 'em up to the ones that stick to their guns
With the rocks and their boots and their rhinestone roots
Doing what they love ′cause they love the mud
And the sticks and the hicks and the six inch lifts
Where the hard work checks ain′t free
Just a bunch of burnt necks like me, straight outta the country
Yeah, from the pine tree hollers, the trout line liners
The covered coal miners, the John Deere drivers
The down home homegrown crew
If that sounds anything like you
Raise 'em up to the ones that stick to their guns
With the rocks and their boots and their rhinestone roots
Doing what they love ′cause they love the mud
And the sticks and the hicks and the six inch lifts
Where the hard work checks ain't free
Just a bunch of burnt necks like me, straight outta the country
So let me break it down for ya if you down for fried chicken
If you kick it like I kick it either side of the Mason-Dixon
It′s all about us
Raise 'em up to the ones that stick to their guns
With the rocks and their boots and their rhinestone roots
Just doing what they love ′cause they love the mud
And the sticks and the hicks and the six inch lifts
Where the hard work checks ain't free
Just a bunch of burnt necks like me, straight outta the country
Outta the country
Outta the country
Straight outta the country
Straight outta the country