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Dust in the air, sun sinkin’ low,

Rodeo lights got that golden glow.

Chalk on my rope, boots tight and worn,

Another ride, another storm.

They call my name, I nod and drop,

That gate swings wide, I give it all I got.

Eight seconds fire, heart full of fight,

I’m chasin’ that 92 tonight.

Ride bulls for 92, feel that thunder rollin’ through,

Grip like hell, don’t let go, hold the line and steal the show.

From Cheyenne dirt to Amarillo lights,

We haul bulls all day and ride all night.

This cowboy life’s what I was born to do—

Ride bulls for 92.

Flatbed loaded, moon ridin’ high,

Beef in the back, diesel hums the sky.

Coffee’s gone cold, bones are beat,

But I ain’t quittin’ on this backroad beat.

Me and my boys, we’re the rodeo crew,

Branded by the miles and the work we do.

We chase the points, we chase the dream,

In a world held together by mud and steam.

Ride bulls for 92, feel that thunder rollin’ through,

Grip like hell, don’t let go, hold the line and steal the show.

From Tulsa pens to them Vegas lights,

We haul bulls all day and ride all night.

This cowboy life’s what I was born to do—

Ride bulls for 92.

Ain’t no glamour, just grit and scars,

Sleeping under heaven with a sky full of stars.

It’s the roar of the crowd, it’s the rush in your veins,

It’s holding on tight through the hurt and the pain.

Ride bulls for 92, feel that thunder rollin’ through,

Grip like hell, don’t let go, hold the line and steal the show.

From backroad pens to the spotlight nights,

We haul bulls all day and ride all night.

This cowboy life’s what I was born to do—

Yeah, I ride bulls for 92.