HARDY - TRUCK lyrics
Hardy [Michael Wilson Hardy] Philadelphia, Mississippi, U.S. 🇺🇸
[HARDY - TRUCK lyrics]
If it's cleaned up, shined up
Pedal down on Main you can bet he's pickin'
Up some pretty country thang
If it's covered up in red mud with
A worn-out Warn winch
There's a good chance that
That man is a pretty damn good friend
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
He ain't scared of nothin'
And if the 12 pack's in the passenger seat
Well he probably worked his ass off all week
Yeah, somewhere way out there
In any given town there's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's a silver cross hangin'
Off his dusty old rearview
It's safe to say he's found Amazing
Grace a time or two
If there's numbers on the back '92 to 2012
Bet this story's about his best friend
That he can barely tell
'Cause he misses him like hell
Somewhere way out there in any given town
There's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
He ain't scared of nothin'
And if the 12 pack's in the passenger seat
Yeah, well he probably worked his
Ass off all week
Yeah, somewhere way out there
In any given town there's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
Yeah, you can judge a country
Boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
You can't judge a book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
Pedal down on Main you can bet he's pickin'
Up some pretty country thang
If it's covered up in red mud with
A worn-out Warn winch
There's a good chance that
That man is a pretty damn good friend
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
He ain't scared of nothin'
And if the 12 pack's in the passenger seat
Well he probably worked his ass off all week
Yeah, somewhere way out there
In any given town there's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's a silver cross hangin'
Off his dusty old rearview
It's safe to say he's found Amazing
Grace a time or two
If there's numbers on the back '92 to 2012
Bet this story's about his best friend
That he can barely tell
'Cause he misses him like hell
Somewhere way out there in any given town
There's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
He ain't scared of nothin'
And if the 12 pack's in the passenger seat
Yeah, well he probably worked his
Ass off all week
Yeah, somewhere way out there
In any given town there's a red, white
And blue collar drivin' his around
Turnin' heads, and burnin' tread
And stirrin' up dust clouds
Like a shine haulin' outlaw
Yeah, I'm talkin' 'bout his truck his dash
The county on his tag the songs on his radio
The stickers on his glass
From four bars to two bars
It's true you can't judge
A book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
If there's dents on the side
Yeah, you can judge a country
Boy by his truck
If there's horns in the back
There's a gun in the front
You can't judge a book by it's cover
But you can judge a country boy by his truck