[Intro]
(Yeah)
Bonfire lit, dirt road dreams
Crackin’ a cold one with my team
We don’t talk, we do — ya feel me?
Type shit...
---
[Verse 1]
Got a truck full of gas and a mind full of red dirt,
Shotgun ridin’ and my girl wearin' my old shirt.
Boot scuffed up, been stomped through a hard day,
But I’m good with the grind, I was built the blue-collar way.
Creek runs cold, heart run hot,
Got a Bible on the dash, but I still might pop.
If you cross that line, I ain’t quick to forgive —
I ain't about talkin’, I’m about how I live.
---
[Pre-Chorus]
We ain't flashy, we just real,
Got scars on our knuckles, pain we feel.
So if you don’t know, better learn it quick —
'Round here we call that type shit.
---
[Chorus]
This that camo hat, chew in my lip — type shit.
Old dog bark, front porch sit — type shit.
Diesel in the veins, grit in the grip,
We don't fake nothin', we just spit that type shit.
Yeah, this that outlaw, small-town lit — type shit.
Raise your glass if you came from it — type shit.
Ain’t no gimmick, we the life that hit,
Talkin’ 'bout roots, boots, and truth — type shit.
---
[Verse 2]
Had to hustle for a dollar, stack it slow,
Ain’t Hollywood rich, but I got that soul.
From the holler to the city, I bring my sound,
A little twang in the voice with that bassline pound.
Mama said, "Pray," daddy said, "Fight,"
So I talk to the Lord with my hands real tight.
And I ain't afraid to get loud in the name of peace,
But I’ll stand my ground if the wolves want beef.
---
[Pre-Chorus]
Got pride in the flag and the farm I till,
Work hard, play hard, that’s the deal.
If you ever doubt what this really is —
Just take a ride and feel that type shit.
---
[Chorus]
This that camo hat, chew in my lip — type shit.
Old dog bark, front porch sit — type shit.
Diesel in the veins, grit in the grip,
We don't fake nothin', we just spit that type shit.
Yeah, this that outlaw, small-town lit — type shit.
Raise your glass if you came from it — type shit.
Ain’t no gimmick, we the life that hit,
Talkin’ 'bout roots, boots, and truth — type shit.
---
[Bridge / Breakdown]
Crickets singin’, tires spinnin’ out the clay,
Stars overhead while we swerve down the bayou way.
This ain’t a trend, nah, this is a creed,
Livin’ by the code that the backwoods need.
---
[Final Chorus – Bigger & Louder]
This that camo hat, chew in my lip — type shit.
Old dog bark, front porch sit — type shit.
Diesel in the veins, grit in the grip,
We don't fake nothin', we just spit that type shit.
Yeah, this that outlaw, small-town lit — type shit.
Raise your glass if you came from it — type shit.
Ain’t no gimmick, we the life that hit,
Talkin’ 'bout roots, boots, and truth — type shit.
---
[Outro – Spoken or Faded]
Yeah...
It ain’t just a style, it’s a way of breathin’.
That’s that type shit.
