Justin Moore - Straight Outta The Country Lyrics

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 trotline 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
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

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