Dirty South Blazing

Lyrics

Verse 1 Back when boots still shined, and hearts ran wild, We were kings of the sticks, every southern mile. Georgia dust in the air, moonshine in our veins, Red clay rebels ridin’ freedom’s chain. Creepin' down them two-lane switchbacks tight, Headlights killin' shadows in the devil’s night. Smoke so thick, it’d make the legends choke, Had Cheech and Chong watchin’ from a heavenly cloak. Chorus Oh, we had less gray, harder steel in our hands, Raisin’ hell for the outlaws, scarin’ angels’ plans. Sippin’ bootleg beer, smokin’ Southern haze, Back when the dirty south was set ablaze. Graveside spirits, girls grindin’ real slow, Shotguns locked, in case a doe wanna show. Guns & Roses singin’ "Paradise’s" song, We were outlaws then—ain’t a damn thing wrong. Verse 2 Dirty little redneck queens, barefoot pride, Denim skirts swingin’ on a midnight ride. Tombstones shaking from the boom of the bass, Truck bed rebels carving sin into space. It was whiskey-fueled love, raw, unapologetic, Southern heat sensual, untamed kinetic. A graveyard party where ghosts didn’t scare, Even they tipped their hats to how wild we dared. Chorus Oh, we had less gray, harder steel in our hands, Raisin’ hell for the outlaws, scarin’ angels’ plans. Sippin’ bootleg beer, smokin’ Southern haze, Back when the dirty south was set ablaze. Graveside spirits, girls grindin’ real slow, Shotguns locked, in case a doe wanna show. Guns & Roses singin’ "Paradise’s" song, We were outlaws then—ain’t a damn thing wrong. Bridge Now the road don’t hit quite like it used to, Gray in the beard, but these memories cut through. Still hear that graveyard hum in my ear, Whispers of youth, shots of cheap beer. The girls are all mothers, the graves got more names, But the fire within me? It burns just the same. Outlaw for life, dirt-road to the grave, A rebel’s heart is the only thing I’ll save. Outro So here’s to the nights barely remembered, When flannel shirts burned hot like embers. Raise a glass to the mud, the girls, the sound, Back in the day when we owned this ground. Guns in the truck bed, smoke in our eyes, Southern sins rising in the midnight skies. Back when Georgia dirt roads held our throne, We were outlaws, man... and we called it home.