My Country E

Fell up in my sweet tea, Brewing in the sun rays. I was just sixteen, Bumping old GK. True spokes and white walls, kinfolks and outlaws. An old tin roof, chained to my roots like A chunk yard dog. It ain't always what it seems, Ain't no John Deere green. From the city to the backwoods and I'm somewhere In between. That same old Bible belt still holding Up my stacks. I'm from the wrong side of the tracks, So my country doesn't look like that. Doesn't look like that. My country doesn't look like just sitting outside, Blurring the lines of the stereotypes. I'm just sitting outside, blurring the lines, Blurring the lines, yeah. Tattoos and a six string, Rapping by the bonfire. Running down a big dream, Singing with the wrong choir. From a broken home but I never felt alone. When I say I'm country, Don't get me wrong. It ain't always what it seems, Ain't no John Deere green. From the city to the backwoods and I'm somewhere In between. That same old Bible belt still holding up my Stacks. I'm from the wrong side of the tracks, So my country doesn't look like that. Doesn't look like that. My country doesn't look like just sitting outside, Blurring the lines of the stereotypes. I'm just sitting outside, blurring the lines, Blurring the lines, yeah.