My granddaddy rolled from Carolina clay,
With a trunk full of lightning before the break of day,
Back roads twisting through the Cumberland trees,
Running white-hot whiskey up to Tennessee.
Verse 2
From the hills to the city where the tall lights glow,
Through Kentucky blacktop and Ohio snow,
Chicago waited with the engines tuned,
And Detroit called when the profits bloomed.
Chorus
They were sideways, hell-bent, and hellbound steel,
Running souped-up Fords on corn-liquor fuel,
Sirens screaming but they never slowed down,
Just smoke and gravel on the edge of town.
That rocket shine burned hotter than the sun,
Highway patrol never caught a one,
Bootleg blood in these bones I found —
None of my granddaddies ever raised a fool around.
Verse 3
Al Capone paid cash in a backroom deal,
For mountain-made fire in a copper still seal,
Detroit’s Purple Gang knew the driver’s name,
When the crate doors opened, they all came the same.
Verse 4
Flathead engines roaring like a thunderstorm,
Radiator boiling but the nerve stayed warm,
Tires humming on the county line,
Chasing freedom with that outlaw shine.
Chorus
They were sideways, hell-bent, and hellbound steel,
Running souped-up Fords on corn-liquor fuel,
Sirens screaming but they never slowed down,
Just smoke and gravel on the edge of town.
That rocket shine burned hotter than the sun,
Highway patrol never caught a one,
Bootleg blood in these bones I found —
None of my granddaddies ever raised a fool around.
Bridge
Banjo ringing like a midnight chase,
Headlights flashing on a driver’s face,
Lawman swore he’d shut it down,
But moonshine ghosts still run this town.
Final Chorus
Sideways, hell-bent, and hellbound still,
Moonlight running through these hills,
From Carolina dirt to Motor City ground,
Bootleg legends still roll around.
That rocket fuel burned ten times strong and true,
Like racing fire those old boys knew,
Family pride in every mile they’d rule —
None of my granddaddies ever raised a fool.