Stand on It Son

Daddy had a bootleg &
He kept it to the floor
He drove a bored-out Chevy
Bout 1944
He ran shine through the foothills
The dark corner of Caroline
When behind the wheel
You could bet he was making time

I started running whiskey when I was 12 years old
And my Daddy would tell me "faster"
So I did what I was told
"Don't let them blue lights
Scare you boy
Their Mommas taught'em
How to drive
Keep it ditch to ditch,
Son you're doing fine"

Stand on it son...
Let that motor whine
Don't let up till you get
To the county line

I stayed out of prison
Cause I knew how to drive
And rebuilt my own engine
Cause I wanted it to fly
Runnin rot-gut whiskey
As fast as I can
It's the only life I've known
I'm a bootleg man

Stand on it son...
Let that motor whine
Don't let up till you get
To the county line

Now I drive on Sundays
On national TV
My car is full of sponsors
And everybody cheers for me
Sometimes over that engine
I get a voice in my head
Well it's my old man &
This is what he says

Stand on it son...
Let that motor whine
Don't let up till you get
To the finish line
No don't let up till you get
To the finish line



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