Backroad Country Shit

[Verse 1]
Mud on the truck seat
Boot print on the dash
Driveway’s just a dirt road
Mailbox leanin’ in the grass
Chew cup in the cup holder
Beer box in the back
Dog hair on my flannel
Winning ticket on the dash
[Chorus]
That’s that backroad country shit
Gas tank low, still runnin’ it
Circle K ice in a Styrofoam lid
Friday night, yeah, we on that kick
Hole in my jeans, but I’m feelin’ rich
Duct-taped cooler and a half-broke hitch
If you know, then you just grin a bit
Hell yeah, that’s that country shit (woo)
[Verse 2]
Bonfire in a cow field
Tailgates for the chairs
Smoke in my old ball cap
Bass thumpin’ out the air
Copenhagen in my pocket
Two-step in the dust
Lipstick on a Solo cup
She laughs, “boy, you a messed-up plus” (c’mon)
[Chorus]
That’s that backroad country shit
Truck bed stage and a cheap warm fifth
Boots too worn but they still don’t quit
Lost my tab but I still won’t split
Stain on the seat where my ex once lit
Her last smoke, man, I don’t miss it
If it’s rough, if it’s loud, if it barely fits
Raise a can to that country shit (hey!)
[Bridge]
Call it redneck, I call it home
Rust and rope and an old payphone
Granddad’s land and a little spit shine
Turnin’ spare change into a damn good time
[Chorus]
That’s that backroad country shit
Hand-me-down pride, can’t buy this grit
Homemade shine in a mason twist
Sunday talk, Friday gettin’ lit
Scratch-off dreams in a glove box pit
Broke on paper, but it don’t feel it
If your heart beats slow when the daylight hits
But wild in the dark, that’s country shit (yeah)

country, Rowdy modern country banger: crunchy Telecaster riffs, big half-time drums, subby low-end. Male vocals with a smirking drawl; verses sit tight and talky, chorus opens up huge with stacked gang shouts. Fiddle runs answer vocal lines, barroom crowd ad-libs on hooks, and a breakdown drops to kick, claps, and vocal before the final chorus explodes.