Camo Crocs and Whiskey Shots

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[Verse 1]
Granddad’s boots smell like gasoline
Still kickin’ ass at age ninety-three
Said, “Son, if it ain’t broke, raise some hell”
I met a dude from Brooklyn wearin’ camo crocs
Said “Yeehaw!” and shotgunned a box of wine
Guess country’s spreadin’ just fine
[Chorus]
We still got dirt in our veins
And beer in the backseat stains
From cow tippin’ nights
To bar-fight rights
Yeah, country’s got multiple lanes
[Verse 2]
My ex moved to L.A., bought a crystal lamp
Says she’s into “moon stuff” and vegan spam
But she still cries to Garth on her yoga mat
And my new girl’s got a mullet and a pet raccoon
She shot me a wink and howled at the moon
We’re gonna be married by next June
[Chorus]
We still got dirt in our veins
And duct tape fixin’ our chains
We pray and cuss
In God we trust
And we tailgate hurricanes
[Outro]
We ain't refined, we're aged in grease
With chili dogs and tax receipts
And if it breaks? We duct and zip—
That’s redneck scholarship