Way Down South (feat. Kyle Cook, Danny Boone, and Demun Jones)

We goin' way down, way down, way down south
 We goin' way down, way down, way down
 Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more
 Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more
 Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
 We goin' way down
 I'm a workaholic, alcoholic, everything-aholic
 Hillbilly, bumpkin', whatever name you call it
 My mama smokes Winstons and my daddy drinks wine
 The Muscadine kind, and I love 'em, they mine
 I got a big sister named Ginger that'll whip your ass
 Quick, fast, this is something that you should know
 We ain't just from down there, we're from out there (out there)
 No newspaper, we ain't on their route, yeah (yeah)
 Yeah, country, no city water (nope)
 No pizza, man, we didn't even get the order (nope)
 But we workin', we ain't afraid of labor (yup)
 When the works done, we wakin' up the neighbors (come on)
 And they live a half a mile away from us
 We crank it up louder, wishin' they would say somethin'
 But they wouldn't anyway, 'cause they on the way
 Will we be alive tomorrow? We can only pray
 We goin' way down, way down, way down south
 We goin' way down, way down, way down
 Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more
 Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more
 Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
 We goin' way down
 We comin' at you live from the bottom
 Right-hand corner, 55 degree weather
 But the summer like a sauna, man
 You could cut the humidity with a Husqvarna (country)
 Damn skippy, can't wash it off ya
 Hard-working daddy, mama mighty bossy
 They don't like me runnin' with my buddy, Bubba, we be gettin' saucy
 Like some good ole boys know to do 'round these parts
 Whiskey sips got us fit to be tied
 Pitching more than a hissy fit
 Wide open spaces, out in the sticks
 I'm in La Grange tryna holler at some Dixie chicks
 Don't get mad at me, Natalie, I'm just tipsy as piss
 We goin' way down, way down, way down south
 We goin' way down, way down, way down
 Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more
 Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more
 Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
 We goin' way down South (ooh, ooh)
 Way down, like Jones County
 We candy cane, we doin' it like it ain't
 Lemme say it now, the replay on the rounds is Bubba, Danny and me
 And we comin' to tear it down, and then we raisin' a banner
 And we ain't takin' it down, we crankin' the music louder
 We makin' it shake the ground, lay it down, lay it down
 Hey, what you know about them loud-ass crackers, the gentlemen of the south?
 While we hangin' outta windows and ridin' 'round the town
 In a black Duramax jacked way up off the ground
 Smoke stacks, big grips, hips and bottle lifts
 Drink bottles to the bottom 'cause we take big sips
 And little bitty hips, but here that's a fact
 Move your bottom, better get it together, now bring it back, y'all
 We goin' way down, way down, way down south
 We goin' way down, way down, way down
 Then we work, work 'til we can't work no more
 Then we drink, drink 'til we ain't got no more
 Then we lay it down, lay it down, lay it down
 We goin' way down south (ooh, ooh)
 We goin' way down south