Praise the Lord for Southern women Hand me engines, crispy chicken Praise the Lord for East Atlanta Country grammar and banana Praise the Lord that I got everything I want and need and more I might turn up on Saturday But first thing's Sunday morn Praise the Lord for Sister Julie Big ol' hat and tambourine She keeps playing when we're shouting Doesn't know that she's off beat Praise the Lord for my bartender Turns a single into two We went crazy out there last night We need saving in this feud It don't matter how you worship To my saint, win or lose Praise the Lord for Southern women Hand me engines, crispy chicken Praise the Lord for East Atlanta Country grammar and banana Praise the Lord that I got everything I want and need and more I might turn up on Saturday But first thing's Sunday morn Praise the Lord He rockin' with me, that's for sure Praise the Lord Praise the Lord He rockin' with me, that's for sure Praise the Lord Praise the Lord for my three babies And the one that's thrown away All the words up in the good book And dirt up on my Chevrolet Praise the Lord for Sunday morning And paycheck Friday afternoons For cold beer conversation And broken cowboy boots It don't matter how you worship To my saint, win or lose Praise the Lord for Southern women Hand me engines, crispy chicken Praise the Lord for East Atlanta Country grammar and banana Praise the Lord that I got everything I want and need and more I might turn up on Saturday But first thing's Sunday morn Praise the Lord He rockin' with me, that's for sure Praise the Lord He rockin' with me, that's for sure Praise the Lord