[Verse 1] Born and raised in the hills of Northwest Georgia, red clay dirt on my boots, always out to explore ya. We’d skip school on Friday, hit the creek with the poles, catfish and bluegill, keeping em hooked and under control. Four-wheelers mudding, sliding through them backwoods trails, tires slinging red mud, laughing when we’d fail. Shotguns in the truck, deer season in the fall, camping on the mountain, answering to no law at all. [Pre-Chorus] Bonfire blazing, speakers bumping something nasty, cooler full of Busch Light, life moving fastly. [Chorus] This is how we did it in the Dirty South Hills, fishing, mudding, hunting, raising hell for real. Drinking by the bonfire, shooting stars above, teenage hearts on fire, falling in love with the mud and the bud. We were wild, we were free, didn’t care who saw, Northwest Georgia raised — that’s the Dirty South law. From the river to the ridges, we lived every night, hills of Northwest Georgia taught me how to live life right. [Verse 2] We’d build bonfires so big the cops could see the glow, tailgates down, girls dancing to that dirty South flow. Stealing kisses in the woods, hands under flannel shirts, whiskey on our breath, telling lies about how much it hurt. Rifles on the four-wheeler, hog hunting after dark, waking up hungover, still smelling like smoke and bark. We didn’t have much money but we had everything we need, a pocket full of shells and a tank full of gasoline. [Pre-Chorus] Radios blasting, tires spinning in the clay, those were the best damn years of my life, no debate. [Chorus] This is how we did it in the Dirty South Hills, fishing, mudding, hunting, raising hell for real. Drinking by the bonfire, shooting stars above, teenage hearts on fire, falling in love with the mud and the bud. We were wild, we were free, didn’t care who saw, Northwest Georgia raised — that’s the Dirty South law. From the river to the ridges, we lived every night, hills of Northwest Georgia taught me how to live life right. [Bridge] Yeah, we broke some rules, we broke some hearts, left tire tracks and memories all over them backroads and parts. Wouldn’t change a single thing, not a minute, not a day, those Northwest Georgia hills still call my name. [Final Chorus] This is how we did it in the Dirty South Hills, fishing, mudding, hunting, raising hell for real. Now I’m grown but every time I smell that bonfire smoke, I’m right back in them hills with all my wildest folks. We were wild, we were free, best days I ever saw, Northwest Georgia raised me — Dirty South till I fall. [Outro] Yeah… Dirty South Hills… Northwest Georgia… We still out here… Raised right.
