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• Artiste: Taylor Ray Holbrook
• Titre: Southern Land
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All my roudy country friends, around here. We like to meet at The Holler, build a fire, drink a beer. We slip out to the field, climb a tree, shoot a deer. I reminisce about these days, man i get a chill. We keep our trucks lifted up, so high. We gotta lock 'em down in a 4-wheel drive. Sideways in a mud hole, that's just how it goes, round here. I'm talkin bout the Southern Land. Grab a six pack son, go hop in the back. Everybody round here knows where the parties at. Down a real long road on provate land, passed down to me from my old man. Yeah, we get roudy, crank it up too loud. Southern pride still makes me proud. Them long legs still drive me wild, when there's nowhere to go, just drivin' round. Ain't nothin' like a sunset, singin' on down with a Sunkist, girl settin' eyes on me. Take a picture for the moment, so the time will freeze. If you're looking for me, you know where i'll be. Beneath these hollers, hills and trees. My kids gonna do that same ol' thing. Same old song, same guitar, just different strings. All my roudy country friends, around here. We like to meet at The Holler, build a fire, drink a beer. We slip out to the field, climb a tree, shoot a deer. I reminisce about these days, man i get a chill. We keep our trucks lifted up, so high. We gotta lock 'em down in a 4-wheel drive. Sideways in a mud hole, that's just how it goes, round here. I'm talkin bout the Southern Land. You can take me out of the country, but you can't take it out of me. See these roots in my vein are different than any other human I can see. How it was, is how it is. Ain't nothin' gonna change bout the way we live. I'm still runnin' around that same ol' kid, barefoot and all just gained some years. Lemme tell ya bout a back road, talkin' bout the ones that we still ride on. In a little bitty town nothin' going around. Just romance with the lights on. Back pew believer, i'm an underachiever. Just a good ol' boy turned to a singer. All my roudy country friends, around here. We like to meet at The Holler, build a fire, drink a beer. We slip out to the field, climb a tree, shoot a deer. I reminisce about these days, man i get a chill. We keep our trucks lifted up, so high. We gotta lock 'em down in a 4-wheel drive. Sideways in a mud hole, that's just how it goes, round here. I'm talkin bout the Southern Land. Oh, I'm talkin' bout that Southern Land. Oh oh, I'm talkin' bout that Southern Land. I'm talkin' bout that Southern Land. I'm talkin' bout that Southern Land.