Lyrics

[Verse 1] Me and my buddy spent thousands on raisin' these rides Spent a few more thousand on the speakers inside I wanted a paint job but wrapped it in matte black Decided I wanted camouflage and took it right back I'm bumpin' Jones County and it's loud and clear Now you can't see me comin' but you can damn sure hear There's plenty of room to recline in my crew max Cowboy leather seats are titanium packed Now that's 50 on the truck, customize another 50 I'm out a hundred grand could have bought a Bentley Now you can tell a county boy ain't scared to drop a stack Rednecks blowin' paychecks to be exact, uh [Chorus] G-G-Georgia boy fresh We ain't even playin' witchya We ain't even playin' witchya Uh, ahh [Verse 2] To all the redneck women that bathin' in mud Ain't nothin' hotter than a country girl that don't give a what And they come in every size, triple X to itty bitty But every girl looks better in a rebel flag bikini You think she's hot now wait 'til you see her drive a dually With a 12 pack of honeys in the bed liner Jacuzzi Complete with LED that turn purple and blue The colors move with the music and the girls do too Now they all gettin' drunk, drinkin' straight out of a picture Cornbread here shake it like a Polaroid picture maker Hillbilly Drew like he's in the first grade now Everybody's followin', they started a parade, uh [Chorus] G-G-Georgia boy fresh We ain't even playin' witchya We ain't even playin' witchya Uh, ahh [Verse 3] And if you think it's silly for country boys to bust wide Don't you take a trip on down to mount up Crawling rock in the oakley arbuckle is serious Instead of judgin' covers of books, come experience it Don't let the flags scare ya, we won't hurt a fly But threaten the wife and kids then you gotta die, yeah Family comes first, we consider God our member That's why we decorate a tree right around December, uh [Chorus] G-G-Georgia boy fresh We ain't even playin' witchya We ain't even playin' witchya Uh, ahh [Verse 4] Cash on delivery, don't write me a check If Demun don't get dollars he ain't rockin' a set And I ain't with the merch cut unless you tote it and count it And if it ain't in the paperwork, don't ask me about it If your drunk buddy's thinkin' 'bout grabbing a shirt Tell him check my track record, merch snatchers get hurt Pretty sore grill scattered over the map And I ain't even tryna brag, that there's a fact But I don't want trouble, I'm just tryna sing And let the world know how a county boy does his thing Take care of my girls, make mom and dad proud Hit the stage like a beast and the crowd screams loud [Chorus] G-G-Georgia boy fresh We ain't even playin' witchya We ain't even playin' witchya Uh, ahh