Pop in the truck ten of my buddies are already drunk
We don't go nowhere that doesn't have liquor and cigarettes
Riding mechanical bulls in the club
We like to hunt leave with a gun come back tomorrow we covered in blood
With a bucket of guts we all tougher than f**k
And we popping the clutch we ain't stuck in the mud
I'm the white boy with the baseball bat bunch of face tattoos and a NASCAR hat
In the backyard like a scrap yard got a glass jar
Full of tobacco that's blacker than asphalt
Rolling with hundreds of crackers who acting
Like animals they cannot handle their alcohol
We the white boys from the back woods in the bad hoods
And the trailer park trash that pack guns
When I was younger they'd tell me to struggle and hustle
Like two hundred bikers and they were my brothers
We coming for blood and you running for cover addicted to drugs in the gutter
Been drunker than anyone leaving the club