Lyrics:
Buckle up and let's have some fun
Ridin' 95 down the highway, sideways, runnin' from ol' John Law
Booze in the boot, move it over Bo Duke make room for
Buckle up and let's have some fun
Ridin' 95 down the highway, sideways, runnin' from ol' John Law
Booze in the boot, move it over Bo Duke make room for
the State of the Union
When right out in front of the Baptist church
Come a big ol' purple school bus
Had astrological signs upon it
And thirty-five hippies
I should practice law
Mentally, I'm fucked up generally (duh)
Dukes of Hazzard car, get the cadaver dogs
'Cause this is murder, murder and you'll
in
My stand-up shower
I ain't never been fake, son
Go and check my resume
On my Dukes of Hazzard 'bout to
Make a crazy leap of faith
Started from
ol' boys getting autographs
In Cincinnati, I know you heard
I got fined for the cuss words
It's true, baby, so so unique
Might slap your man
or daddy's maters
They just hate the fucking fact that good ol' Coleman
Gonna make it, they don't like my music Yeah, some people really hate it, well, they
of guys at
Edward's Air Force Base
And she made it down here in time for the
Show two hours of taking it off
For the boys in the car
Really good okay heh
shit
Don't even sound warm
Nigga I'm nasty, my style is sound porn
The graphic, exposin' wack asses
I emcee as free as Ol' Dirty Bastard
You think you
the good ol' boy state with the ol' blokes
Where getting judged ain't only by the old folks
And it's hard to have pride
When alikes die
By the barrel load
nothin' in the world like a good ol' stem
On and like on and, and it was strong
Grabbed her pipe and sung a song
"I want to get high, so high!"
"I want
beeper number
And the ol' girl was talkin' right
So I hooked up somethin' for a lil' later on tonight
Then a Bronco rolled by
And then, everybody
Our style's Wrangle jeans and ol' Red Wings
Freebird's our anthem and we start to sing
Our version of Beverly Hills
Is in the holler in the sticks where
of a meal
Im Makin' their way,
The only way they know how,
That's just a little bit more than i ever allow
Their Just the good ol' boys,
Stood For
this one goes to all my good ol' boys out there
Now if you ever done had yer heart torn out and thrown into the Mississippi by a damsel
Raise a glass,
of down home
So then I'm callin' all country women, yeah
Well this good ol' boy loves gettin' on down home
Oh this country boy needs a little but
out and spend a ton of it
Just for the fun of it
The room's vibratin, cause I can't stop
Yeah the girls are in the back
Blastin that good ol hip-hop
the year
So I'ma take you back to times,
Without a care,
Reverse ya mind
No stressing, relax this will get you feeling fine
Springs waking up ol' earth
New
down we comin' get that head
Swear that shit crazy saw ol' boy the next day he was dead
‘Ion do new friends not even mutual
My left and right gon'
Sweet taters, Mema's pie
Good 'ol boys, whiskey rye
Cold slaw, Southern drawl
Haters talk cause they know we ball
Shrug em' off and watch em' fall
This
play-boy
Straight up, then the bitch you got playin' shotgun
Like, I used to serve that bitch, c'mon
Really really good, I mean and you gotta shirt and tie
town
Everybody getting rowdy
on my stomping grounds.
I was born to raise hell
and I ain’t gonna stop
Like a duke boy
on the run from the cops
I’m
just wanna run
Fuck that shit fuck that shit
I'm not gonna sit around and watch you make my problems to amusement
Cause you doing too good boy yeah you
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