I'm the king of the country,
the boss,
the sticks.
I came up like biscuits from scratch to mix.
I'm a mere tin hustler with a true south swagger.
He'll fill it ball and count money on my tractor
with my John Deere 50 cap made in the shade
and my throwback bra, my boot stomping your way.
Got the game wrapped tight like some square belt.
Hey,
I can pull them out fresh,
hit the block and get paid.
I'm on 32 wakers of a dream come true.
About a hundred head of cattle in a fishing hole too.
I ain't hard to find.
I be doing what I do.
I'll push hogging deals till my people come through.
Living my life like an old dirt road.
Sipping Pocky Brown out the jug,
keep me ice cold.
The boss,
the stick,
Biscuits from scratch, noobie, living
Smash through with my K-5 Chevy
Banging through the sticks here to get my folk ready
For some fun in the sun,
getting the party just right
Bonfire in the back, cus to kick it all night
Raising cane like a devil,
kicking mud like a coon hound
Catch me by the creek at my backwoods campground
Thoroughbred gal with them dukes cut low
Going donkey on the boss like a smooth cedar stripper pole
Shine in my door,
got my eyes on the prize Chunky dunk it in the water underneath the
full moon light Get it how I'm living every day of my life
Saw the swag in my blood, so to hell with a wife
Wild as a jackrabbit,
slick as a fox Country ass buttermilk served on the rocks
King of the dirt roads,
watching you'll learn Now put that in your swisher and let the truth
burn I'm the king of the country,
the boss of the
sticks I'm the king of the country,
the boss of the
sticks I came up like biscuits from scratch,
noob bitch