Backroad Country Shit

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

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)

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)

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!)

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

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)