I ain't got a dog that lives outside, I ain't got a buddy named Buddy.Yeah, I ain't hatin' on them boys who grew up lockin' their doors.There's all kinds of boys up front of the sun, son, but this one's for...Y'all boys, wake that southern drawl, boys.Yeah, before you gnaw rolling off just right.Man, that town's small, boys, but you have a ball, boys.Homemade alcohol on a Saturday night.Yeah, trust they'll give a call.Pretty girl, you gon' fall for one of them backbone runners.Man, I'm glad I'm one of...Y'all boys.Yo, Artie, you gon' tell them about the girls outside.Cause those girls are like golden pearls dippin' into Trust Fund money.Yeah, the radio and the Jack and Coke is the only thing to no country.They didn't grow up on no county road, they grew up on some street.And they think they know what kind of man they want until they meet.Y'all boys, wake that southern drawl, boys.Yeah, before you gnaw rolling off just right.Man, that town's small, boys, but you have a ball, boys.Homemade alcohol on a Saturday night.Yeah, trust they'll give a call.Pretty girl, you gon' fall for one of them backbone runners.Man, I'm glad I'm one of...Y'all boys, state trophy in the hall, boys.Hangin' something that you hunted on the wall, boys.You mess with one of us, you get us all, boys.Y'all boys, wake that southern drawl, boys.Yeah, before you gnaw rolling off just right.Man, that town's small, boys, but you have a ball, boys.Homemade alcohol on a Saturday night.Yeah, trust they'll give a call.Pretty girl, you gon' fall for one of them backbone runners.Man, I'm glad I'm one of...Y'all boys.