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You are watching: Framing the red country band man

Paroles de la chanson Country Band Man :Well, I live back in the woods you seeI got a 5-star plant standin 50 feetDown an old dirt road off of Interstate 10Bring a 20 pack, Dime sack, Party beginsGot a shotgun and a box of birdsHop up out the truck and ask what’s the good wordGot shrooms in the pastureGrowin up some laughterIf the cops show up, then it really don’t matterAround a fire just writin this songGot my family and friends right where we belongGot some peer pressure but just come as you areYou can pass out in the yardNow you’re sleepin with the starsDream about the streets of goldLivin in the past hope I never grow oldPassin time on my grandaddy’s landI started shootin the shit, then I started a bandCause I’m a country band manSmokin weed, cookin contrabandI grew up in the southern landPlayin guitar with my calloused hands
Well, I’m a country band manSmokin weed, cookin contrabandI grew up in the southern landStill workin with my calloused handsGuitar solo:Laugh, Drums, Rap:Check this out, I’m bout to speak a little truthAbout some good ol boys, that were brought up in the LouSee I’m the country band man, you know I grew up in the southernLandHigh demand, supply demand, cause I’m a fuckin rider manRed lining in a GMC, Sierra Classic baby, Back when gas wasCheapWhile we were popping the tabs, the girls were losin their topsHittin G-Spots, Steadily dodgin the copsAcross the levy brah, down an old gravel roadShit, we can go to Jamie’s house, cause daddy ain’t homeYeah, we were undercover lovers, hidin bitches under coversFuck the others, they just smother, make our girlfriends babyMothersAll we needed was some time, didn’t even cut the lights offLegs soft, Eat it raw, She’s runnin like a chainsawCouple extra rooms, I got a couple extra womenSkinny dippin, finger slippin, definition easy livin


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Well, I’m a country band manSmokin weed, cookin contrabandI grew up in the southern landPlayin guitar with my calloused handsWell, I’m a country band manSmokin weed, cookin contrabandI grew up in the southern landStill workin with my calloused handsWell, I’m a country band manSmokin weed, cookin contrabandI grew up in the southern landStill workin with my calloused handsWell, I live back in the woods you seeI got a 5-star plant standin 50 feetDown an old dirt road off of Interstate 10Bring a 20 pack, Dime sack, Pary begins