Way Down South

(album: Made On McCosh Mill Road - 2014)

We going way down, way down, way down south
We going 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 going 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
No newspaper, we ain't on their route, yeah
Yeah, country, no city water
No pizza, man, we didn't even get the order
But we working, we ain't afraid of labor
When the works done, we waking up the neighbors
And they live a half a mile away from us
We crank it up louder, wishing they would say something
But, they wouldn't anyway, 'cause they on the way
Will we be alive tomorrow? We can only pray

We going way down, way down, way down south
We going 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 going way down

We coming at you live from the bottom
Right-hand corner, 55° weather
But the summer like a sauna, man
You could cut the humidity with a husk of corn
(Country)
Damn skippy, can't wash it off ya
Hard-working daddy, mama mighty bossy
They don't like me running with my buddy, Bubba
We be getting 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 trying to holler at some dixie chicks
Don't get mad at me Natalie, I'm just tipsy as piss

We going way down, way down, way down south
We going 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 going way down
South

Way down, like Jones County
We candy cane, doing it like it ain't
Lemme say it now, the replay on the rounds is Bubba, Danny and me
And we coming to tear it down, and then we raising a banner
And we ain't taking it down, we cranking the music louder
We making it shake the ground and down and down
Hey, what you know about them loud-ass crackers, the gentlemen of the south
While we hanging outta windows and riding '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 going way down, way down, way down south
We going 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 going way down
South

We going way down
South