Southern Roots

Go ahead talk shit 
And run your mouth 
We was raised muddy 
In the dirty south 
Ain’t ever gotta question
what we’re about 
Keep fucking round 
Guess you’ll find out 

Coming from the bottom 
Busting gates up out the trenches 
Workin on our own shit 
We good with turning wrenches 
We never flenching 
We living it up 
We some bad mother truckers 
We not giving a fuck 

All I gotta do is show up 
It’s gonna blow out 
You Better still some tickets 
Cause this show is fucking sold out 

Felling cold now 
Flow sick like corona 
Listen to this music with your sole 
makes you wanna 

Catch a party 
Give a fuck about a felony 
I’m doing what this voice 
inside my mind is fucking telling me 

My thoughts ragging 
Throwing shit out the window 
not worried about my sanity 
My mind has fucking been blown 

Like the blades on a chopper 
Im spinning out of control 
Done mad a deal with the devil 
Have no time for a sole 
I’m not sad because I know my worth 
A rebel from the south 
I keep my feet in this dirt 



We like to raise a little hell 
chase a little tail 
Save up a little money 
So we always make bail 

Standing proud 
We the king of the mud 
We don’t know how to fake 
Moonshines in our blood 

We packing up the punches 
the cream of the crop 
Always handle shit ourselves 
We don’t need any cops 
Whip ya ass 
And use your head for a mop 
No need to stay chocking 
Just stop sucking on cock 


Staying Smooth like whiskey 
High like Waylon 
We like to have a good time just
playin 
In the mud Way out by the pain trees 
If you smell weed 
then you know where to fine me 

Come on everybody put your hands 
A Fell it in your body 
You’ll know when to stand up 

Don’t worry bout the haters 
can’t stand us 
That’s why them mother fuckers ain’t round u