|
(Don't act like ya'll didn't know this wasn't comin') |
|
Alright |
|
[Verse 1:] |
|
You know Tommy gonna trick his truck, jack it up big time, |
|
Lift kit, chrome tips, spit shinin like a diamond. |
|
Game changed and the rain came and we took it down a back road. |
|
Georgia clay mudhole, that's how these boys roll |
|
Now it's late night underneath the moonlight. |
|
Errybody's feelin right, sippin on a bud light. |
|
Go on drop yo' tailgate, turn up your radio. |
|
I'm a build a bonfire, you can make yourself at home |
|
Kick back, relax, you know we're just a bunch o' hillbillies |
|
Tip back a cup a' Jack and throw your hands up with me. |
|
[Chorus:] |
|
Hey, we might look a little crazy tonight, hey baby that's alright, |
|
It's our backwoods, boondock roots, it's just what we do. |
|
It's just what we do. |
|
Hey, ain't no way to make this up, when it's runnin through your blood, |
|
There ain't no hidin the truth, it's just what we do. |
|
It's just what we do. |
|
Yeah, it's just what we do |
|
[Verse 2:] |
|
You see Tommy called Jeanie and Jeanie gon' call the hotties, tell em bout the party, |
|
So don't forget the Bacardi. |
|
Time to get your buzz on and your love on, all night long, |
|
And if you play your hand right, you won't have to go home alone. |
|
Six string pickin, solo cup sippin, and when the moments right, grab ya phone and get them digits, |
|
Crankin that Bocephus, we all good with Jesus. |
|
Come Sunday morning that preacher, he bout to preach it |
|
Kick back, relax and pass the good time moonshine. |
|
Who brought the party? Damn, that was Florida Georgia Line. |
|
[Chorus: x3] |
|
Hey, we might look a little crazy tonight, hey baby that's alright, |
|
It's our backwoods, boondock roots, it's just what we do. |
|
It's just what we do. |
|
Hey, ain't no way to make this up, when it's runnin through your blood, |
|
There ain't no hidin the truth, it's just what we do. |
|
It's just what we do. |
|
Yeah, it's just what we do. |