My Kind of Country

My kind of country has a Trump and a JFK (ooh, sunshine)
An N-double-ACP and a NRA (ooh, sunshine)
My kind of country has a place where the buffalo roam
A buddy guy, old biggie and a sly and the family stone

My kind of country has a George Jones, crazy and wild
Drinking white lightning like it was going out of style
My kind of country has a Waylon on a nicotine high
Back when he was the only daddy that would walk the line

I like it loud, I like it real
With a little bit of fiddle and a cowboy picking some steel guitar
I like it proud, but it's gotta feel
Somewhere between muscle shoals and Bakersfield

I like it funky with a whole lotta blues and soul (whole lotta blues and soul)
My kind of country sounds a lot like rock 'n' roll (yeah, yeah, hey)

My kind of music, you know I'd play it for free (oh yeah)
But it sure sounds better with the record man paying me
My kind of music give the people what they deserve
'Cause money is the devil and fame is a four-letter word (oh yeah)

I like it loud, I like it real
It's gotta make you shake, your feet stomp, and your hands clap (ooh, ooh)
I like it proud, but it's got to feel (got to feel)
Like a back some loan, or a honky tonk bar in the back

I like it funky like some old-school rolling stone (rolling stone, yeah)
My kinda country sounds a lot like rock 'n' roll (oh yeah, yeah)
My kinda country sounds a lot like rock 'n' roll (oh yeah)
Hey, hey, hey, hey, rock 'n' roll (oh yeah)