Lyrics

[Hook]
Here’s to the real ones left, standin’ tall in the field,
Buildin’ names outta blood, outta grit, outta steel.
From the backroads loud to the neon glow,
If you know, then you know, where the real ones go.

[Verse 1]
Shoutout Lac Boys, still thumpin’ that sound,
Georgia Boys hold it down where the pines surround.
Country Lunatic keep the torch in his hand,
For the fans in the crowd screamin’ proud for the band.

Up and Comin’ with a vision that the suits can’t buy,
Carved their names in the dirt, watch the ink never dry.
Independent in the marrow, that’s the code we keep,
If you ain’t plantin’ your own, you can’t harvest that deep.

[Verse 2]
Some folks rent a seat but never build the ride,
Passenger forever with no wheel to guide.
Like a scarecrow crownin’ in a storm they shake,
All hollow in the chest, just a frame that breaks.

Others howl at the moon like they leadin’ the pack,
But when daylight hit, ain’t a soul got their back.
They the rust on the blade when the steel should sing,
Tryna sharpen up a crown that was never their ring.

[Verse 3]
I see smoke in the valley with no fire at all,
Just a mirror on the wall tryna make ‘em look tall.
I’m the oak in the flood, roots grippin’ too tight,
They the weeds in the ditch, gone dead overnight.

So here’s one for the outlaws who carry the flame,
The ones standin’ proud when the crowd calls a name.
This for y’all, the backbone, the soul, the breath,
Here’s a toast to the truth and the real ones left.

[Hook]
Here’s to the real ones left, standin’ tall in the field,
Buildin’ names outta blood, outta grit, outta steel.
From the backroads loud to the neon glow,
If you know, then you know, where the real ones go.