Lyrics:
(Skoal) by Cledus T. Judd and Chris Clark La-Po Music/Chris Clark Publishing Designee. New Lyrics (Stoled) by Cledus T. Judd, Bruce Burch, Dan Saranana,
Don't need no diamond ring Don't want a bunch of bling bling The only thin I really need Is a man with a skoal ring Don't have to be wined
boy, a John Deere rider Dirt on his boots, the heart of a fighter Chevy square body, old Skoal ring Simple man on an old six string Friday night,
[Chorus] Don't need no diamond ring Don't want a bunch of bling bling The only thin I really need Is a man with a skoal ring Don't have to be
Hopin' we didn't get caught And we spent what little bit of money we had On wintergreen Skoal and main street gas Go get your girl, go make a drag If
Hopin' we didn't get caught And we spent what little bit of money we had On wintergreen Skoal and main street gas Go get your girl, go make the drag
Cold beer, hot wings Wranglers, Skoal ring Get just what you see Gun rack, ball cap Don't take no crap Ain't a pretty boy-toy I'll rock you steady
when you ain't got the money And you say cheers to a good year and chug a beer If you got Skoal rings in your old jeans Get down dirty just to make
Skoal can dipping dipping Striking matches to watch them burn Had alpines in the back seat bumping Tan legs on the tailgate We were singing George Jones
don't mess with a guy like me 'Cause guys like me drink too many beers on Friday after work Our best blue jeans have Skoal rings We wear our boots
don't mess with a guy like me 'Cause guys like me drink too many beers on Friday after work Our best blue jeans have Skoal rings We wear our boots
a one swing fight We oughta know better but that ain't ever stopped us We got beer money even when we broke We chew skoal when we don't wanna smoke We
the dirt Confederate flags faded on a pole Ripped up jeans and a can of Skoal So, don't tell me, don't tell me Don't tell me that I don't know the woods
a one night wannabe I want a guy with a skoal ring who knows how to hold me Slow hands he don't mind to get dirty A strong man, I know we're gonna get
knows I'm sweet tea sippin Ain't got no skoal in my lip But I got a bottle to em Whatever mama says Yeah you know I'm bout to do it Can't drive a tractor
Shot a lever action The holler where it’s hannin Rev up your 4 wheeler and foller me to heaven Skoal, Givenchy, trailer park haunchy Pack a camels
pussy ah games ya playin getting old I'm finna dip on a bih ain't talking Skoal Bitch too hard headed you couldn't get it through yo skull I keep a bitch
the simple things in life Like longnecks and skoal cans, like slow drives and deer stands Hot coffee on the weekend to sit and watch the sun come up cnd old
Backyard football games Everybody knows you by first name Everyone's invited to your kitchen Cause your mama makes the best homemade chicken Skoal rings in
Backyard football games Everybody knows you by first name Everyone's invited to your kitchen Cause your mama makes the best homemade chicken Skoal rings in
rule breaking kinda life Whiskey sipping, skoal dipping, truck driving kinda style A little bit a dirt and a little bit of rust, a whole lotta faith in
I love to dip Buzz so hard I'm barely standing They're all chanting let's go Brandon We be dipping lots of Skoal Feel it in your bunghole Feel it in
some twang in my soul And a mouth full of Skoal 'Cause it's the redneck way of life (That's right) Robert E lee sleepin' in my Family tree without
Rolling, rolling, on 44's with an 8 inch kit Skoal can dipping it, moonshine sipping it, straight legit, We're just hickin' it We're the talk of the town,
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