Tearin' down a dirt road, rebel flag flyin', 'Coon dog in the back. Truck bed loaded down with beer, An' a cold one in my lap. Earnhart sticker behind my head, An' my woman by my side. Tail-pipe's poppin', the radio's rockin': "Country Boy Can Survive". Well, if you got a problem with that, You can kiss my country ass.
Well, I love Turkey calls, overalls, Wrangler jeans: smoke nothin' but Marlboro reds. Tattoos up an' down my arms, An' deer heads over my bed. My Grand-Daddy fought in World War Two, An' my Daddy went to Vietnam. An' I ain't scared to grab my gun, An' fight for my homeland. If you don't love the American flag, You can kiss my country ass.
If you're a down home, backwoods redneck, C'mon, stand up an' raise your glass. But if you ain't down with my outlaw crowd, You can kiss my country ass.
Well, there's a whole lotta high-class people out there, That's lookin' down on me. 'Cause the country club where I belong, Is the Honky Tonk till three in the mornin'. Don't wear no fancy clothes, No ties or three-piece suits. You can find me in my camouflage hat, My tee-shirt an' cowboy boots. If that don't fit your social class, You can kiss my country ass.
If you're a down home, backwoods redneck, Hey, c'mon, stand up an' raise your glass. But if you ain't down with my outlaw crowd, You can kiss my country ass.
'Cause I'm a front-porch sittin', Guitar pickin', moonshine sippin', Bacca juice spittin' country boy from the woods. An' I love fried chicken an' blue gill fishin', An' outlaw women, an' I wouldn't change if I could. I ain't tryin' to start no fight, but I'll finish one every time. So you just mind your own damn business, And stay the hell outta mine. If you got a problem with that, You can kiss my country ass.
I said if you got a problem with any of that, You can kiss my natural born, Redneck to the bone, Ever-lovin' country ass.