Charlie Farley, Ryan Miller - A Little Too Far lyrics
[Charlie Farley, Ryan Miller - A Little Too Far lyrics]
Last of a dyin' breed
True son from the South
I'm from if you backtalk mama
You get busted in the mouth
I'm from that rollin' bubble
In a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I got frog eyes in the pickle jar
The whiskey still still smokes like old cars
I got a half a pack of cancer sticks left
And I just iced down a thirty pack of regrets
Yeah, we shootin' polecats and
Catching channel cats
We like a throwback
Like an old Johnny Cash track
So you can get a map, buy a magnifyin' glass
Look 'til your eyes hurt
But you won't find where we're at 'cause
We're gettin' dirty down an old dirt road
No city limit's in sight
Yeah, go ahead and get a little sideways
Givin' it up tonight
Don't care too much for the drama
You can leave that shit at home
'Round here, we know how to throw it down
So let me tell you where I'm from
I'm from the
Last of a dyin' breed
True son from the South
I'm from if you backtalk mama
You get busted in the mouth
I'm from that rollin' bubble
In a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I still bowfish and go frog gigging
The viddles on my plate are all God-given
I roll Mossy Oak and mind my own business
Couple tokes of the green got
Me seein' night vision
I'm from the backside of the boondocks
Where the honeybees swarm in the treetops
Makin' what I need, and it's free, no cost
To get another honey 'shine batch brewed up
Uh
Mama raised me in the church
But I quit goin'
Daddy's rebel blood's in me
And it's still flowin'
And it will 'til I'm ill and old
There's no one that can scold me
Until we've been simmer-simmerin' down
So, so put the Crown on the rocks
And the beer in the chest
I've been called a mess
But I know that I'm blessed
Because out here is where my head rests
You gotta holler to find me 'cause
Verizon can't hear me yet
Yet
Last of a dyin' breed (Dyin' breed)
True son from the South (From the South)
I'm from if you backtalk mama
(Backtalk mama)
You get busted in the mouth (In the mouth)
I'm from that rollin' bubble
(Rollin' bubble)
In a clear glass jar (A clear glass jar)
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
True son from the South
I'm from if you backtalk mama
You get busted in the mouth
I'm from that rollin' bubble
In a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I got frog eyes in the pickle jar
The whiskey still still smokes like old cars
I got a half a pack of cancer sticks left
And I just iced down a thirty pack of regrets
Yeah, we shootin' polecats and
Catching channel cats
We like a throwback
Like an old Johnny Cash track
So you can get a map, buy a magnifyin' glass
Look 'til your eyes hurt
But you won't find where we're at 'cause
We're gettin' dirty down an old dirt road
No city limit's in sight
Yeah, go ahead and get a little sideways
Givin' it up tonight
Don't care too much for the drama
You can leave that shit at home
'Round here, we know how to throw it down
So let me tell you where I'm from
I'm from the
Last of a dyin' breed
True son from the South
I'm from if you backtalk mama
You get busted in the mouth
I'm from that rollin' bubble
In a clear glass jar
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah
I still bowfish and go frog gigging
The viddles on my plate are all God-given
I roll Mossy Oak and mind my own business
Couple tokes of the green got
Me seein' night vision
I'm from the backside of the boondocks
Where the honeybees swarm in the treetops
Makin' what I need, and it's free, no cost
To get another honey 'shine batch brewed up
Uh
Mama raised me in the church
But I quit goin'
Daddy's rebel blood's in me
And it's still flowin'
And it will 'til I'm ill and old
There's no one that can scold me
Until we've been simmer-simmerin' down
So, so put the Crown on the rocks
And the beer in the chest
I've been called a mess
But I know that I'm blessed
Because out here is where my head rests
You gotta holler to find me 'cause
Verizon can't hear me yet
Yet
Last of a dyin' breed (Dyin' breed)
True son from the South (From the South)
I'm from if you backtalk mama
(Backtalk mama)
You get busted in the mouth (In the mouth)
I'm from that rollin' bubble
(Rollin' bubble)
In a clear glass jar (A clear glass jar)
Way back in the Mason-Dixon (Mason-Dixon)
Everything is a little too far, yeah