paroles de chanson Country On It - Justin Moore

My grand pappy was happy hillbilly
A holler-raised, blue-collar, dollar-made man
Tobacco stained smiler, a shiner in the dark
With a keep-it-real heart and a common sense plan
I loved how he said what he said sometimes
Whenever he found me down
With a laugh and that throwback Arkansas drawl
That you get from my hick town, he'd say

Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God, doggone it
Yeah, rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it

It's a bow on a fiddle, it's whittling on hickory
It's a homemade butter on cornbread thing
Getting back down to earth like a name on a shirt
Don't forget where you're from
If you know what I mean
When that city ain't looking so green

Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God doggone it
Yeah, rub a little country on it, aww-yeah

On that clean truck, on some life sucks
On that been there, done that, now what?
On that done you wrong, on that shortcut home
On the radio before you turn it on

Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it
Yeah, like jaw chaw on a dang dirt dauber sting
By God, doggone it
Rub a little country, rub a little country
Rub a little country on it, yeah