Blame It All On Country Music
Spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit but the truth
Daddy won tickets to some Tim McGraw
Lucky number seven on an FM call
Bought a cold beer can for a front row queen
She came for the band but left in his Jeep
Mama, me, daddy singing Tim McGraw (Tim McGraw)
Learned my first words from the radio
Took my first steps down a red dirt road
I grew up raisin' hell where the black top ends
And all my rowdy friends ain't settled down yet
We stay turned up like the radio
It's all that we know, spent the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on country music (country music)
Yeah, I'm a second generation George Strait junkie
16, took a six-string to Southern Kentucky
Was singing songs for my dinner and a bucket of money
I got addicted when the pickin' started getting me lucky
I got a long hair, rock 'n' roll reputation
Hop on this train 'fore it leaves the station
Love it or hate it, you're gonna know what my name is
The lights are comin' on and people are waitin'
To spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on honky-toned bars
Music City, Gibson guitars, that's what gets me
Run for tip jar, share the whiskey
When it's all gone, blame it all on country music
Country music
(Country music)
Let's get to picking and grinning
We got a crowd of believers
Hell, it started in a church, now it's filling arena
Country music
It's a hell of a living that only country could teach us
Damn, I wish that Hank and Johnny could see us
Spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault that I'm long gone
Spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on honky-toned bars
Music City, Gibson guitars, that's what gets me
Run for tip jar, share the whiskey
'Til its last call, sing along y'all
It ain't our fault, blame it all on
Country music
Yeah
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit but the truth
Daddy won tickets to some Tim McGraw
Lucky number seven on an FM call
Bought a cold beer can for a front row queen
She came for the band but left in his Jeep
Mama, me, daddy singing Tim McGraw (Tim McGraw)
Learned my first words from the radio
Took my first steps down a red dirt road
I grew up raisin' hell where the black top ends
And all my rowdy friends ain't settled down yet
We stay turned up like the radio
It's all that we know, spent the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on country music (country music)
Yeah, I'm a second generation George Strait junkie
16, took a six-string to Southern Kentucky
Was singing songs for my dinner and a bucket of money
I got addicted when the pickin' started getting me lucky
I got a long hair, rock 'n' roll reputation
Hop on this train 'fore it leaves the station
Love it or hate it, you're gonna know what my name is
The lights are comin' on and people are waitin'
To spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on honky-toned bars
Music City, Gibson guitars, that's what gets me
Run for tip jar, share the whiskey
When it's all gone, blame it all on country music
Country music
(Country music)
Let's get to picking and grinning
We got a crowd of believers
Hell, it started in a church, now it's filling arena
Country music
It's a hell of a living that only country could teach us
Damn, I wish that Hank and Johnny could see us
Spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault that I'm long gone
Spend the whole night drinking to it
Blowing smoke like Willie grew it
I'd take the credit, but the truth is
It ain't my fault, blame it all on honky-toned bars
Music City, Gibson guitars, that's what gets me
Run for tip jar, share the whiskey
'Til its last call, sing along y'all
It ain't our fault, blame it all on
Country music
Yeah
Credits
Writer(s): James Holt, Jonathan Clay Barker, Jerry Alan Jacobs, Payton Mcdaniel
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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