Dirt Road Drippin’

Yeah…

Ashen Lights ridin’ dirty through the cornfields.

This ain’t your granddaddy’s country.

Let’s ride.

Rollin’ on a backroad, tires spittin’ red clay,

Got a six-pack chillin’ in the bed all day.

Bass thump heavy like a shotgun blast,

Boot heel stompin’ through the speakers fast.

John Deere hat with a cityboy lean,

Got mud on my Nikes and my faded blue jeans.

Steel-toed swagger with a heart full of fire,

Country roots run deep — but I climb higher.

Dirt road drippin’, wheels keep spinnin’,

Moonshine sippin’, front seat sinnin’.

Trucks and beats, yeah, that’s my lane,

I’m country made with a trap-boy brain.

Horns in the grill and a dream in the dash,

Banjo loops over 808 crash.

This my sound, I’m what they missin’,

Ashen Lights got that dirt road drippin’.

Ain’t gotta choose between twang and flow,

I just blend ’em both and let the rhythm go.

Got cousins in the holler, friends in the trap,

Whole fam tied to a beat and a snap.

Whip so loud it could wake the hay bales,

Still say grace over fried catfish tails.

Respect my mama, and don’t cross my name—

We bless our food and still bring flame.

Dirt road drippin’, boots still kickin’,

Beats so loud got the fish line flickin’.

Barnyard bounce with a skyline view,

Mixin’ church with a bass tattoo.

Fire in my chest and mud in my veins,

Raised by the holler, runnin’ my lane.

Ain’t no box that can hold my vision—

This is real… dirt road drippin’.

I’m the crossroad you didn’t see comin’.

Spurs in the floorboards, bass still drummin’.

Tell ‘em the South got rhythm too—

Just needed a mic and a country groove.

Dirt road drippin’, wheels keep spinnin’,

Moonshine sippin’, front seat sinnin’.

Trucks and beats, yeah, that’s my lane,

I’m country made with a trap-boy brain.

No suits, no script, no gimmick—

Just soul, mud, and a flow that’s vivid.

Call it what you want, I call it livin’—

This that fire… dirt road drippin’.