Luke Bryan - What Makes You Country lyrics
[Luke Bryan - What Makes You Country lyrics]
People talkin' ’bout what is
And what ain’t country
What gives ’em the right to wear
A pair of beat-up boots?
Is it the size of your tires and your fires
Or your wild ass buddies?
Well, give me a minute
Let me hit you with some hometown truth
You could be a cowboy on the Texas plain
Or a plowboy waitin’ on the rain
We’re all a little different
But we’re all the same
Everybody doin' their own thing
I got my dirt road cred when I was twelve
On a no cab tractor hauling them bales
Backing in boats, fishing limb lines
Running bird dogs through the Georgia pines
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you, but I can't judge
Just be proud of what makes you country
Does it run in your blood?
Did it come from your daddy and mama?
Were you converted by an Alabama
Song on the radio? That feels so right
Did you lock eyes with a
Little green-eyed girl from Jackson?
Tell me what got ya, I just gotta know
Me, I got my Sunday learning
In a live oak church
Silver Queen corn in a backyard dirt
Waiting for the fall to finally come along
So I can grab my gun and get my outside on
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you, but I can't judge
Just be proud of what makes you country
Might be from a city or a little farm town
Whatever kind of square that you drove around
Do you wear it on your sleeve
Or keep it deep down?
You know you gotta let it out
I got my dirt road cred
Back when I was twelve
On a no cab tractor hauling them bales
Backing in boats, fishing limb lines
Running bird dogs through them Georgia pines
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you
But I ain't judging
And just be proud of what makes you country
Whatever makes you country
You do your kind of country
They doing they kind of country
I do my kind of country
Whatever makes us country
And what ain’t country
What gives ’em the right to wear
A pair of beat-up boots?
Is it the size of your tires and your fires
Or your wild ass buddies?
Well, give me a minute
Let me hit you with some hometown truth
You could be a cowboy on the Texas plain
Or a plowboy waitin’ on the rain
We’re all a little different
But we’re all the same
Everybody doin' their own thing
I got my dirt road cred when I was twelve
On a no cab tractor hauling them bales
Backing in boats, fishing limb lines
Running bird dogs through the Georgia pines
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you, but I can't judge
Just be proud of what makes you country
Does it run in your blood?
Did it come from your daddy and mama?
Were you converted by an Alabama
Song on the radio? That feels so right
Did you lock eyes with a
Little green-eyed girl from Jackson?
Tell me what got ya, I just gotta know
Me, I got my Sunday learning
In a live oak church
Silver Queen corn in a backyard dirt
Waiting for the fall to finally come along
So I can grab my gun and get my outside on
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you, but I can't judge
Just be proud of what makes you country
Might be from a city or a little farm town
Whatever kind of square that you drove around
Do you wear it on your sleeve
Or keep it deep down?
You know you gotta let it out
I got my dirt road cred
Back when I was twelve
On a no cab tractor hauling them bales
Backing in boats, fishing limb lines
Running bird dogs through them Georgia pines
Step side cover down in peanut dust
Friday night spotlight, and that was us
It might not have been you
But I ain't judging
And just be proud of what makes you country
Whatever makes you country
You do your kind of country
They doing they kind of country
I do my kind of country
Whatever makes us country