More Trucks Than Cars Lyrics
| Song | More Trucks Than Cars |
| Artist | Craig Morgan |
| Album | This Ole Boy |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Out here on the backside of that city limit sign where the world turns two lanes | |
| Pretty girl working at the bank and the fella toppin’ off your tank knows your name | |
| Water tower, power lines, swimming holes rusty old RC cola sign | |
| And county fairs, raise your hands up if you’ve been there | |
| Where there’s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight’s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y’all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there’s more trucks than cars. | |
| Well, I’ve been there on the concrete of them big city streets | |
| In my Ford truck, traffic jam in the town square | |
| Told my buddies living up there, good luck | |
| Meanwhile back in Tennessee we’re raising our babies and our own green beans | |
| Kicking up dust, come on down when you had enough | |
| Where there’s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight’s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y’all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there’s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there’s biscuits, grits and gravy, your pretty waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight’s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y’all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there’s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there’s more trucks than cars. |
| Out here on the backside of that city limit sign where the world turns two lanes | |
| Pretty girl working at the bank and the fella toppin' off your tank knows your name | |
| Water tower, power lines, swimming holes rusty old RC cola sign | |
| And county fairs, raise your hands up if you' ve been there | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Well, I' ve been there on the concrete of them big city streets | |
| In my Ford truck, traffic jam in the town square | |
| Told my buddies living up there, good luck | |
| Meanwhile back in Tennessee we' re raising our babies and our own green beans | |
| Kicking up dust, come on down when you had enough | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy, your pretty waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. |
| Out here on the backside of that city limit sign where the world turns two lanes | |
| Pretty girl working at the bank and the fella toppin' off your tank knows your name | |
| Water tower, power lines, swimming holes rusty old RC cola sign | |
| And county fairs, raise your hands up if you' ve been there | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Well, I' ve been there on the concrete of them big city streets | |
| In my Ford truck, traffic jam in the town square | |
| Told my buddies living up there, good luck | |
| Meanwhile back in Tennessee we' re raising our babies and our own green beans | |
| Kicking up dust, come on down when you had enough | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy and the waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there' s biscuits, grits and gravy, your pretty waitress calls you baby | |
| And the starlight' s like a streetlight on a summer night. | |
| We say hell ya and amen, yeehaw, and y' all come back again | |
| And pray that our boys come home alive | |
| And when Old Glory flies, we still hold our hands over our hearts | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. | |
| Where there' s more trucks than cars. |
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