[Intro]
*(Trap b**t drops with sharp hi-hats, gritty bassline, and a twangy guitar riff in the background)*
[Verse 1]
Yo, mud tires kickin’ up the gravel dust,
Dixie pride, but my neck’s too red to trust.
Gold chain gleamin’, but it’s rust on the fringe,
Southern drawl drippin’, boy, I’m spittin’ that sting.
Chew tobacco, got the camo on my back,
Critics talkin’ slick—man, they way off track.
Moonshine flask, got the fire in my veins,
Creek bed preacher, but I’m singin’ through the pains.
[Chorus]
Neck too red, but my pockets on green,
Backroads rebel, livin’ like a machine.
Holler loud, let the trap snare snap,
Chevy low, but my pride stay intact.
[Verse 2]
Granddaddy’s shotgun ridin’ shotgun with me,
Sweet tea sweat, yeah, the South’s in my speech.
Cowboy boots stompin’ on the haters’ lies,
Catfish fry, got the truth in my eyes.
Hound dog barkin’ at the ghosts in the pines,
Legacy written in the rust on the signs.
Ain’t no city slicker gonna tell me my name,
Rebel flag heart, but I’m play
