A Little Too Far
Last of a dying breed, true son from the South
I'm from 'if you back talk momma, you get busted in the mouth'
I'm from that rolling bubble in a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I got frog eyes in the pickle jar
The whiskey still, still smokes like old cars
I got a half a pack of cancer sticks left
And I just tossed down a 30-pack of regrets
Yeah, we shooting polecats and catching channel cats
We like a throwback like an old Johnny Cash track
So you can get a map, buy a magnifying glass
Look 'til ya eyes hurt, but you won't find where we're at, 'cause
We're getting dirty down an old dirt road
No city limits in sight
Yeah, go ahead and get a little sideways giving up tonight
Don't care too much for the drama
You can leave that shit at home
'Round here, we know how to throw it down
So let me tell you where I'm from, I'm from the
Last of a dying breed, true son from the South
I'm from 'if you back talk momma, you get busted in the mouth'
I'm from that rolling bubble in a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I still bow fish and go frog gigging
The viddles on my plate are all God-given
I roll my own smoke and mind my own business
Couple tokes of the green got me seeing night vision
I'm from the backside of the boondocks
Where the honeybees swarm in the treetops
Making what I need, and it's free, no cost
To get another honey 'shine batch brewed up, uh
Momma raised me in the church, but I quit going
Daddy's rebel blood's in me, and it's still flowing
And it will 'til I'm ill and old, there's no one that can scold me
Until we've been simmer-simmerin' down
So, so put the Crown on the rocks and the beer in the chest
I've been called a mess, but I know that I'm blessed
Because out here is where my head rests
You gotta holler to find me 'cause Verizon can't hear me yet, yet
Last of a dying breed (dying breed), true son from the South (from the South)
I'm from 'if you back talk momma (back talk momma)
You get busted in the mouth (in the mouth)
I'm from that rolling bubble (rolling bubble), in a clear glass jar (a clear glass jar)
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I'm from 'if you back talk momma, you get busted in the mouth'
I'm from that rolling bubble in a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I got frog eyes in the pickle jar
The whiskey still, still smokes like old cars
I got a half a pack of cancer sticks left
And I just tossed down a 30-pack of regrets
Yeah, we shooting polecats and catching channel cats
We like a throwback like an old Johnny Cash track
So you can get a map, buy a magnifying glass
Look 'til ya eyes hurt, but you won't find where we're at, 'cause
We're getting dirty down an old dirt road
No city limits in sight
Yeah, go ahead and get a little sideways giving up tonight
Don't care too much for the drama
You can leave that shit at home
'Round here, we know how to throw it down
So let me tell you where I'm from, I'm from the
Last of a dying breed, true son from the South
I'm from 'if you back talk momma, you get busted in the mouth'
I'm from that rolling bubble in a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I still bow fish and go frog gigging
The viddles on my plate are all God-given
I roll my own smoke and mind my own business
Couple tokes of the green got me seeing night vision
I'm from the backside of the boondocks
Where the honeybees swarm in the treetops
Making what I need, and it's free, no cost
To get another honey 'shine batch brewed up, uh
Momma raised me in the church, but I quit going
Daddy's rebel blood's in me, and it's still flowing
And it will 'til I'm ill and old, there's no one that can scold me
Until we've been simmer-simmerin' down
So, so put the Crown on the rocks and the beer in the chest
I've been called a mess, but I know that I'm blessed
Because out here is where my head rests
You gotta holler to find me 'cause Verizon can't hear me yet, yet
Last of a dying breed (dying breed), true son from the South (from the South)
I'm from 'if you back talk momma (back talk momma)
You get busted in the mouth (in the mouth)
I'm from that rolling bubble (rolling bubble), in a clear glass jar (a clear glass jar)
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
Credits
Writer(s): Ryan Miller, Jared Ryan Sciullo, Charlie Farley
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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