Rednecks Kill for Cash

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Wadda' Hoot

3:28

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I was raised on them ‘ole southern sounds
I grew up and away as I began to play
I was a rocker from a one-horse town
But I sure do remember where I come from
I ain’t no hick, sure ain’t a prick but I’ve got a little southern drawl
No, I ain’t afraid to say I root from the sticks
I even got some buddies that are self-proclaimed hicks
Watch your tongue they’re quick to attack
If you think you’re gonna run down that man in black
Well, a redneck loves his truck, loves his woman, loves to shoot a buck
Four by fours slinging mud, up all night sharing his bud
Wild as they come when they tilt that sour mash
Willie, Hank and Waylon are good
But rednecks kill for cash
No matter where you go on down the road
There’s always honky tonks, dives and little holes
To slug down your beer if you fit
If you ain’t got nothing good to say
You better have some quarters and something good to play
Buddy, that jukebox is gonna be your best friend
Everybody’s got their favorite hit
Whether it’s Aldean, Lynyrd Skynyrd or some Travis Tritt
Watch your back, their teeth will mash
If you ain’t got that jukebox on Johnny Cash
Well, a redneck loves his truck, loves his woman, loves to shoot a buck
Four by fours slinging mud, up all night sharing his bud
Wild as they come when they tilt that sour mash
Willie, Hank and Waylon are good
But rednecks kill for cash
Well, a redneck loves his truck, loves his woman, loves to shoot a buck
Four by fours slinging mud, up all night sharing his bud
Wild as they come when they tilt that sour mash
Willie, Hank and Waylon are good
But rednecks kill for cash

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