Stars, Stripes, Shotguns!

(Verse)

We grew up where the gravel meets the county line,

Friday night bonfires burnin’ till the morning light.

Lifted trucks, mud tires, tailgates droppin’ low,

Small-town blood with a don’t-back-down soul.

Granddad’s flag flies high above the old front porch,

Bible on the table, freedom worth fighting for.

We ain’t lookin’ for trouble, but if it comes around,

You’ll find this country boy standin’ his ground.

(Pre-chorus)

Raise ’em up, let ’em know,

This is how we steal the show.

(Chorus)

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Hell yeah, that’s where we’re from.

We’ll stick Middle fingers in your face if you hate this land,

We don’t give a damn—we’ll still take a stand.

Cold beer, backwoods, rifles in the rack,

Piss us off enough and we’re firing back.

Red, white, blue till the day we’re gone—

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Yeah… bring that shit on!

(Verse)

Got a cousin in the Marines, brother flies the skies,

Neighbor wears a badge while another works the lines.

Farmers feed the nation, welders build the steel,

Truckers keep America rollin’ on eighteen wheels.

We’re the ones who wave Old Glory every chance we get,

Never gonna bow, never gonna quit.

You can have your city lights and Hollywood dreams,

We’ll take dirt roads and liberty.

(Pre-chorus)

Raise ’em up, let ’em know,

This is how we steal the show.

(Chorus)

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Hell yeah, that’s where we’re from.

We’ll stick our Middle fingers in your face if you hate this land,

We don’t give a damn—we’ll still take a stand.

Cold beer, backwoods, rifles in the rack,

Piss us off enough and we’re firing back.

Red, white, blue till the day we’re gone—

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Yeah… bring that shit on!

(Guitar solo)

(Bridge – Spoken/Sung)

This ain’t just dirt—it’s sacred ground,

Built by the blood of the ones not around.

If freedom’s got a price, we’ll pay that debt,

Ain’t met a damn thing gonna break us yet.

Raise one high for the red, white, and blue,

For every old vet and the next one too.

You can talk your shit, but you won’t change us,

This is our home… and we raise hell for it.

(Chorus)

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Hell yeah, that’s where we’re from.

We’ll stick our Middle fingers in your face if you hate this land,

We don’t give a damn—we’ll still take a stand.

Cold beer, backwoods, rifles in the rack,

Piss us off enough and we’re firing back.

Red, white, blue till the day we’re gone—

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Yeah… bring that shit on!

Stars, stripes, shotguns!

Turn this motherfucker up!

Born free, raised tough, country to the bone,

Ain’t nobody gonna tell us how to live back home.

Raise that flag, let that freedom fly,

We’ll fight like hell ’til the day we die.

If you want a piece, better think real long—

‘Cause it’s Stars, Stripes, Shotguns!

Come and bring that shit on!