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  2. C-O-U-N-T-R-Y

C-O-U-N-T-R-Y Lyrics

I ain't never hauled hay in the trunk of my car
But I drunk a little shine from a mason jar
I know how to work and how to have fun
I'm a good-timin', blue-collar, son-of-a-gun

I like monster trucks, tractor pulls, country fairs
Huntin' and fishin' and ice cold beer

That's the way I'm gonna be 'till the day I die

My baby looks hot in her high heel shoes
She looks even cooler in her cowboy boots
She can dance to the music, all night long
She's a stick of dynamite, she's bad to the bone

She likes boogy woogy, Reggae, Rap, Pop and Soul
Hip-Hop Blues, and Rock and Roll

If you really want to know what drives her wild

You might not know it by the way we talk
We might not show it by the way we walk

But we're true and tried, genuine, certified

That's the way we're gonna be until the day we die

I said, C-O-U-N-T-R-Y

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