Lyrics

Verse 1:
Welcome to Stewart, where the barracks never sleep,
Hinesville’s neon flickers, secrets buried deep.
Gilly’s, Doodles, dive bars with a southern drawl,
Girls on the prowl, soldiers lined up for the fall.
Boots still muddy, paychecks burning holes,
Local queens with hungry eyes, playing wicked roles.
They’ll buy you a shot, then steal your soul by dawn,
In this Georgia heat, innocence is long gone.

Chorus:
Raise hell in the low country, party ‘til the sun comes up,
Loose lips, loose morals, whiskey in a Dixie cup.
Fort Stewart’s got the power, but it don’t protect your pride—
One wrong move and command will let you fry.
These women know the game, and they’re hunting in packs,
Plotting lawsuits, faking love, and watching your back.
It’s a soldier’s playground, but the house always wins,
Welcome to the dirty south, where the real trouble begins.

Verse 2:
Rocky’s on post, strobe lights, and a DJ’s beat,
Commanders let the ladies in, free before midnight, sweet.
Savannah’s calling, but the bars in town close fast,
So the party’s at the gate, where the wild ones amass.
Girls from Ludowici, Richmond Hill, and the Pines,
Looking for a hero, or just a good time.
They’ll dance for your dollars, then slip out the door,
Leaving you broke, hungover, and wanting more.

Bridge:
Every soldier’s got a story, every girl’s got a scheme,
Mixing truth and trouble in a southern fever dream.
Command’s got eyes everywhere, quick to cast blame,
One slip, one sip, and they’ll tattoo your name.
AWOL, UCMJ, dishonor in the air,
You’ll take the fall, they’ll never care.

Chorus:
Raise hell in the low country, party ‘til the sun comes up,
Loose lips, loose morals, whiskey in a Dixie cup.
Fort Stewart’s got the power, but it don’t protect your pride—
One wrong move and command will let you fry.
These women know the game, and they’re hunting in packs,
Plotting lawsuits, faking love, and watching your back.
It’s a soldier’s playground, but the house always wins,
Welcome to the dirty south, where the real trouble begins.

Outro:
So here’s to the warriors, chasing thrills in the night,
To the girls with sharp smiles and dresses too tight.
In the shadow of Stewart, every secret’s for sale—
Raise a glass, raise some hell, and pray you don’t land in jail.
‘Cause in Hinesville and beyond, the rules are never fair,
But the party keeps rolling—if you’ve got cash to spare