[Intro]
(Dueling banjos. A lone guitar creeps in. Heavy bass drops. Drums explode.)
Yeah…
Welcome to the back roads.
Where the mud flies… and the speakers shake.
[Verse 1]
Raised where the fence posts lean from the Oklahoma wind,
Steel toes stompin’, never worried ‘bout fitting in.
Engine got a growl like a dog off the chain,
Whole town knows when I’m rolling through the lane.
Dust in the headlights, sparks in the night,
Built every dream with a wrench held tight.
Blue-collar heartbeat, gasoline veins,
Turn hard times into horsepower gains.
Talk slick online, disappear in the crowd,
Get real quiet when the trucks get loud.
I’m a backroad renegade, boots in the clay,
Stacking up wins while they’re wasting the day.
[Pre-Chorus]
Strike that match, let the fire ignite,
We don’t back down, we were built to fight.
When the banjo screams and the six-string cries,
Everybody knows the country came alive.
[Chorus]
Turn it up till the tailgate rattles,
Run these roads like outlaw battles.
Bass hits hard, let the windows crack,
No reverse—we ain’t looking back.
Kick that dirt, let the gravel fly,
Raise them hands to the southern sky.
From the holler to the city lights,
We’re bringing country to the Friday nights.
[Verse 2]
Bonfire smoke with the moon overhead,
Living every word that the old folks said.
Earn what you own, never ask for grace,
Leave a little mud on every place.
Chain on the gate and a flag in the breeze,
Working these fields while they’re chasing make-believe.
Hands got scars, heart won’t quit,
Every setback only sharpened my grit.
Got a crew that’ll ride when the road gets rough,
No fake smiles, we already tough.
Built from storms, not polished floors,
Knocking down every locked-up door.
[Bridge]
Banjo picking like a warning bell,
Church on Sunday, Friday raising hell.
Guitar screaming through the midnight air,
If you’re looking for us—you’ll find us there.
[Final Chorus]
Turn it up till the tailgate rattles,
Run these roads like outlaw battles.
Big drums pound, let the whole town know,
This is how the backwoods steal the show.
Bass so heavy make the blacktop shake,
Every mile’s another chance to make
A legend born where the dirt roads wind—
Leave the fear way back behind.
[Outro]
(Banjo and electric guitar trade solos over pounding drums before ending on one massive final hit.)
Back forty. Full throttle.
See you in the dust.
