| Six pack, my life’s in a bottle
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| 18 wheels, is my rolling motto
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| I stayed in the woods, and I played wit a six shot
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| Still fucked up from all the pills that I swallowed
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| School was a bore, I had no fun suspended
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| My whole work was taking weed from a kitchen
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| Pounds of hick stem, a fifth grade scum bag
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| Threw bags in for Christmas, I’m high on attention
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| Skateboard shoes, I had holes in my vision
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| Before it was cool, I had unwanted attention
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| Young girls heartbroke, I’m nothin' but trouble
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| But life is a ditch, bitch, I’m just good wit a shovel
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| Can you dig it?
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| Come on over
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| Be so caught up
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| It’s all about compromise
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| I see problems down the line
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| I know that I’m right
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| I know that I’m right
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| Yeah, you’re probably right
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| I’m probably DUI when I’m driving tonight
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| I put my feet on the edge and kick my soul to the captain
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| And just like Travis, I’m surviving the flight
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| Yelling, «Go Alabama!», holding my banjo
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| And turn up to Marshall and tune up to Dobro
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| My truck ain’t stuck, I got a wrench in the toedo
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| Had friends but they threw me out, when I’m down and low
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| Yo what’s up to the D-Boyz and the meth lab pimps
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| All you Kid Rock fans and all you hippies in hemp
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| If you’ve got the Greatest of Johnny right next to Straight Outta Compton
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| You brought a shovel like mine, you probably been to the ditch
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| And I can dig it
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| Come on over
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| Be so caught up
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| It’s all about compromise
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| I see problems down the line
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| I know that I’m right
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| I know that I’m right |