I aint never hauled hay in the trunk of my car
But I drunk a little shine from a mason jar
I know how to work and how to have fun
Im a good-timin, blue-collar, son-of-a-gun
I like monster trucks, tractor pulls, country fairs
Huntin and fishin and ice cold beer
Thats the way Im gonna be till the day I die
C-O-U-N-T-R-Y
My baby looks hot in her high heel shoes
She looks even cooler in her cowboy boots
She can dance to the music, all night long
Shes a stick of dynamite, shes bad to the bone
She likes boogy woogy, Reggae, Rap, Pop and Soul
Hip-Hop Blues, and Rock and Roll
If you really want to know what drives her wild
C-O-U-N-T-R-Y
You might not know it by the way we talk
We might not show it by the way we walk
But were true and tried, genuine, certified
C-O-U-N-T-R-Y
Thats the way were gonna be until the day we die
C-O-U-N-T-R-Y
I said, C-O-U-N-T-R-Y