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Intro – Talked like a hype man]

Yeahhh, we back in the woods with the heat turned up,

Coolers iced, boots laced, let’s GO!

Country heart, city spark—now watch it blow up!

Y’all ready?

We them kickback kings, mud on our rings,

Bonfire burnin' while the whole crowd sings.

Trucks lined up, and the speakers thump,

Beer in the air while the red dirt jumps.

Got the whole town lit, on a backroad high,

Party don’t stop till the moon says bye.

We don’t dance, we stomp and slide —

Kickback kings with a country pride.

Pulled up late in a F-250,

Bass hittin’ hard, got the hayfield dizzy.

Cornbread queen ridin’ shotgun tipsy,

Yellin’ “turn that up” while she sips on whiskey.

Cowboy hat with a vape in my pocket,

iPhone dead, but the vibes still rockin’.

Boots scuffed up from the line we stomp,

But we keep on dancin' like TikTok’s watchin’.

Tailgate drop, let the game unfold,

We don’t chase fame, we just strike gold.

Got the creek on blast, and the night feels bold,

Raise your drink up, let the world be told—

We them kickback kings, mud on our rings,

Bonfire burnin' while the whole crowd sings.

Trucks lined up, and the speakers thump,

Beer in the air while the red dirt jumps.

Got the whole town lit, on a backroad high,

Party don’t stop till the moon says bye.

We don’t dance, we stomp and slide —

Kickback kings with a country pride.

Yeah, I’m the city boy turned field-grown legend,

Cookout cookin', corn-fed weapon.

Tat on my arm say “Faith & Hustle,”

Chains on my neck with that red-state muscle.

Camo shorts and a big belt buckle,

Haters talk tough till they step in our huddle.

We don’t start fights, but we sure don’t fold,

‘Round here we hot sauce with a heart of gold.

🎸 [guitar break]

Crack that can, let freedom ring,

We ain’t fancy, but we run this thing.

Beat drop

Boots in the air like we don’t care,

Kickback kings and the queens all stare!

We them kickback kings (hey!), mud on our rings (yeah!)

Bonfire burnin', let the backwoods swing.

Speakers loud, and the vibe’s just right,

We don’t need much but a good ol’ night.

Raise them cups, make a toast so fly —

To the kickback kings and the southern high.

Ain’t no shame in the way we ride —

Country loud with a trap inside