[verse one]
Mud on the tires, got the red clay stacked,
Old country pride riding in the back.
Small town roots where the corn lines grow,
Boots on the floor when the fiddle gets slow.
[Chorus]
Bonfires smoke and a tailgate choir,
we raise our cups ’til the moon gets tired.
Running the bog, our truck giving roar,
Friday night’s what we’re living for.
Mud caked rims, diesel in my veins,
sing it loud like an old refrain.
We ain’t fancy, we ain’t clean — stomp the gas, let the speakers scream.
[verse two]
Lifted chassis, headlights cut the dawn,
Tread in the ruts where the mud runs long.
Chrome on the stacks, motor running good,
Bass in the cab and it thumps like it should.
Sunrise light glint off the big chrome rail,
Spin up the tires, let the rooster tails sail.
Buddies in the bed with a cooler and grin,
Mud on the paint, let the night life spin.
[chorus]
Bonfires smoke and a tailgate choir,
we raise our cups ’til the moon gets tired.
Running the bog, our truck giving roar,
Friday night’s what we’re living for.
Mud caked rims, diesel in my veins,
sing it loud like an old refrain.
We ain’t fancy, we ain’t clean — stomp the gas, let the speakers scream.
[verse three]
Storm clouds stack where the blacktop ends,
Heat light flash over rusted-out bends.
Dust devil dance in the two-track lane,
Pray the creek don’t rise when we need that rain.
Thunder on the ridge, wind shake that pine,
Tailgate drum to the sky’s war cry.
[Bridge]
Sky spittin’ lightning on a red dirt road,
Heartbeat thumpin’ like a backwoods show.
From the sticks to the sky where our fires shines,
We crank that storm till the country and the bass combine.
[Small solo]
[final chorus]
Bonfires smoke and a tailgate choir,
we raise our cups ’til the moon gets tired.
Running the bog, our truck giving roar,
Friday night’s what we’re living for.
Mud caked rims, diesel in my veins,
sing it loud like an old refrain.
We ain’t fancy, we ain’t clean — stomp the gas, let the speakers scream.
[spoken words]
If you’re here to party, grab a case and find a tailgate.
